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Full text of "The Complete poems of Robert Southwell, S.J. : for the first time fully collected and collated with the original and early editions and mss."

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100 copies only. 











I place on the left figures 1 , 2, 3, &c. in these Contents, in order to show 
the sequence of the Poems in the Author's Stonyhurst MS. volume. There is 
no title-page to it, and never has been. On the seventh page (three leaves 
blank) begins the Letter to his Father (pp. 29). Next three pages blank ; 
then the Triumphs ouer Death (pp. 33) — the last page and half containing the 
Latin and English poems as printed by us (pp. 18-.'-3). After the Latin and 
Enghsh verse on the Lady of the Howard family, there are other three pages 
blank, then comes the Preface, commencing ' Poets, by abusing,' &o. (2 pp.) 
Then, to the Reader, and the poems in succession as numbered. Tlie Poems 
occupy 36 leaves and part of a page = 72 or 73 pages, with five blank leaves. 
The Prose occupies 31^ pp. G. 


Preface ...... 

Memorial-Introduction. I. The Life 

II. The Writings . 




I. St. Pkter's Compl.\int, 1-55 

II. Myut-k, ok Myrtle-Wreaths, 57-112. 

27. Mary Magdalen's Blushe • • 59 

33. Mary Magdalen's Complaint at Christ's Deatli . . .62 

44. Tymes goe by turnes ........ 64 

43. Looke Home 65 

4J>. Fortune's Falsehoode ........ 66 

52. Scorne not the Leaste 68 

15. A Childe my Choyse 70 

51. Content and Ritche ........ 72 




Losse in Delaye . 

Love's Servile Lott 

Life is but Losse . 

I dye alive . 

What Joy to live 

Life's Death, Love's Life 

At Home in Heaven . 

Lewd Love is Losse 

Love's Gardyne Greife 

From Fortmie's Reach 

Dyer's Phancy turned to a S 

David's Peccavi . 

Synne's heavy Loade . 

New Prince, New Pompe 

The Burning Babe 

New Heaven, New Warre 

III. M.EONi.E, 1 13- if 

Note .... 

The Conception of our Ladie 

Our Ladle's Nativitye . 

Our Ladj-e's Spousalls . 

Our Ladle's Salutation 

Josephe's Amazement . 

The Visitation 

The Nativity of Chris'e 

The Circumcision 

The Epiphanye . 

The Presentation . 

The Flight into Egipt . 

Christe's Retome out of Egipt 

Christe's Childhoode . 

Christ's Bloody Sweate 

Christe's Sleeping Frendes 

The Virgin Marv to Christ ou tiie Crosse 

inner's Complainte 














13. The Death of our Ladie 

14. The Assumption of our Lady 
23. Saint Thomas of Aquines Ilymne read on 


26. Saint Peter's Afflicted Mynde 
28. Saint Peter's Remorse . 

Man to the Wound in Christ's Side 

Vpon the Image of Death . 

31. A Vale of Teares .... 

32. The Prodigall Chyld's Soule Wracke 
3G. Man's Civill Warre 
38. Seeke Flowers of Heaven . 

IV. Melo FOLIA, OR Apples in Leaves, 169- if 
34. Decease, Release. Dum morior, orior . 

35. I dye without Desert . . . • 
24. Of the Blessed Sacrament of the Aulter 

Laments for a Noble Lady . 

To the Christian Reader of ' Short Rvles of Good Life' 




. 142 

• 143 

IS Christy 





V. POEMATA LaTINA, 189-215. 

Poema de Assumptione B.V.M. . . . 
Filii Prodigi Porcos pascentis ad Patrem Epistola 
Fragment of a Series of Elegies .... 

Jesus. Marye 

Ad Sanctam Catherinam, Virginem et Marty rem 
In Renovationem Votorum, Festis Natalis Domini 
In Festum Pentecostes, Anno Dommi 1580, 21 Maii 

Additional Notes and Illustrations 




Illustrations in the illustrated Quarto only. 

I, Jesus Christ, after Leonardo da Vinci . Fac'mff title-iMgu 

(See Preface, pages xxxii.-iii.) 
II, Fac-simUe of Title-page of 1596 edition . . . P- 2 
(See Preface, page xiv.) 

III. Fac-similes from Stonyhurst Mss ^4 

(See Preface, pages xxviii. and xxxii. 



Vexed by the travesties on editing and mere careless- 
ness of Walter earlier (1817) and Turnbull later 
(1856) in their so-called editions of the Poems of Fa- 
ther Southwell — of both of which more, with specific 
proofs, in the sequel — I had long wished worthily to 
reproduce this 'sweet Singer;' and having fortunately 
come into possession of the original and early editions 
— each rarer and costlier than another — and a still 
more fortunate ^JimV of his own mss. in Stonyhurst 
College — all of which were cordially and unreservedly 
placed at my service by the Rector, the very Reverend 
Father Furbrick, S.J., — I am at last enabled to do 
so, not without a ' good hope' of grateful acceptance by 
competent students and lovers of our poetic Literature. 

I would now give account of previous editions, and 
thereafter show what we have tried to accomplish in ad- 
vance of them. 

As distinguished from some of his Prose Writings, 
which were furtively printed in his own house in Lon- 
don (1593-4), 1 the Poems of Southwell were wholly 

' Father John Gerard, the Poet's friend, is our authority. 
His ■words are : ' P. Southwellus, qui in modo juvaudi et lucraudi 
animos excelluit, totus iirudens et pius, mansuetus etiam et am- 
abilis .... in domo sua Londini prelum hahuit ad imprimendos 

rosTHUMous, although, from the Epistles to his 'louing 
cosen' and to the Reader prefixed to St, Peter's Com- 
plaint and related pieces (1595 and in after-editions), 
it is clear that he had himself intended their publication. 
Our collation of the Poems in the Stonyhurst mss. re- 
veals that originally and continuously they have suffered 
from the ^Yant of the Author's own supervision : for 
over and over, as our Notes show, there are most an- 
noying misreadings and misprints, whereby epithets 
bright as dew are changed (so -to -say) into blotches 
of ink, and the meaning reversed, and delicacies not 
only missed but absolutely spoiled, as in rough handling 
of a moth's wing. Certainly his small and difficult hand- 
writing offers an excuse for the original Editors. 

The following is the title-page of the first edition 
(1595), from the Capell copy preserved in Trinity Col- 
lege, Cambridge : 




IVii/i other Poancs. 

Printer's ornament. 

Imprinted by lohn Wolfe. 


lihros suos, quos (luidem edidit egi-egios.' (ms. Autobiogi-aphy of 
Father Gerard, quoted by the very Reverend Dr. Oliver iu the 
Catholic Magazine for Septemher 1832.) 


The collation is 38 leaves in forms — signatures A to K^ 
— ending witli ' From Fortune's Reach ;' and it may be 
noted that the two leaves C and C^ (pp. 11-14) of the 
undated [1596] edition, beginning ' Euill president' &c. 
and closing ' Darts of disdaine' &c. are omitted in that 
place and inserted after ' Come in, say they' &c. (p. 30 
of 159 G edit.), so as to form sigs, E and E-. This thin 
quarto, which is identical with another of the same date, 
' At London, Printed by I. R. for G. C. 1595' [ = James 
Roberts for Gabriel Cawood], contained St. Peter's Com- 
plaint and these shorter poems : Mary Magdalen's Blushe ; 
Mary Magdalen's Complaint at Christ's Death ; Tymes 
goe by Turns; Looke Home; Fortune's Falsehoode; 
Scorne not the Leaste; A Childe my Choice; Content 
and Ritche ; Losse in Delaye ; Love's servile Lott ; Life 
is but Losse ; I dye Alive ; What Joy to live ; Life's 
Death, Love's Life ; At Home in Heaven ; Lewd Love is 
Losse; Love's Gardyne Greife ; From Fortune's Reach ; 
The Nativity of Christe ; Christe's Childhoode, — the last 
two coming in between Scorne not the Leaste and aChylde 
my Choyse. With the exceptions above noted, the 1595 
and 1596 editions correspond page for page as far as p. 46. 
Following this volume speedily was the ' Mjeoniaj' 
of the same year, 1595. Its title-page will be found at 
page 115, with relative Epistle by the Publisher (John 
Busbie) — not, be it noted, named as, but in all probabiUty 
really, the Publisher of ' St. Peter's Complaint and other 
Poems.' This volume, of which a beautiful copy is in 
Jesus College, Oxford, contained those additional Poems 
ever since printed under the title of ' Mseonia^.' It was 
a precious gift John Busbie gave in * Ma3onia3 :' for 
there can be no question that in these relatively minor 


poems we have Southwell at his deepest, tenderest, 
and best. Issued in 1595, these two volumes must have 
been read by those whose eyes were yet wet from weep- 
ing over their Author's tragic end. 

The next edition of the Poems is without date, but 
I assign it, after careful thought, to 1596 (early). Its 
title-page is given in fac-simile in our illustrated quarto 
edition : the ' wording' of it at page 3. It will be 
noticed that this edition bears to be ' Newly augmented 
with other Poems.' These augmentations were not 'Mfe- 
oniee' — which is not included in it even to the extent of 
a single poem — but the following : A Phancy turned to 
a Sinner's Complainte ; David's Peccavi ; Synne's heavy 
Loade; Josephe's Amazement; New Prince, new Pompe; 
The Burning Babe ; New Heaven, new Warre. The col- 
lation is 42 leaves : and throughout, this edition agrees 
in its contents with that of 1G15 (4to). My accomplished 
friend Deputy-Inspector-General Dr. Brinsley Nichol- 
son has favoured me with full notes on William Leake . 
the Publisher of this undated edition, whereby it appears 
that he was a somewhat humble and often- changing 
Bookseller from about 1594-5 (at latest) onward for a 
decade (at least). He has also called my attention to 
the head-pieces and tail-pieces ornamenting the volume, 
specially that ' bluff King Hal,' and early incidents of 
the Keformation, are (seemingly) introduced into them. 
But inasmuch as these were common to other contem- 
porary books, it is scarcely worth while recording the 
details, save that I invite critical readers to solve the 
meaning of the monogram in the title-page, as shown 
in our fac-simile. It has the look of a combination of 
R. S. as = RoiiEKT Southavell with L. = Leake ; but 


the numerals below, which at first I thought might indi- 
cate the Poet's age at death (32-3) scarcely yield this, 
unless the final X. be = II.^ as a cross. I assign Leake's 
edition to 1596, because it is so marked in a contem- 
porary hand in my copy and in another reported to me, 
and because there are certain misprints in it that are par- 
tially corrected in the edition of 1597 as also in those of 
1599 and 1G02, which editions I merely name, as they 
are identical in their contents and of no special worth 
or aixthority, although as books they fetch extravagant 
prices in their ' few and far between' occurrence in Li- 
brary-sales and Book-catalogues. Dr. Hannah favoured 
me with the use of his copy (formerly Park's) of 1599 
edit. Li the centre of its woodcut title-page is an ^scu- 
lapian device, with the mottoes ' Nosce teipsum, Ne qvid 
nimis' and ' Love and lyve.' 

As a bibliographic curiosity I give on the next page 
the title-page (which is within a border) of an early 
Scottish edition. David Laing, Esq. LL.D., has kindly 
forwarded me this, and he conjectures that its date was 
probably 1597 or 1598. From its incompleteness Cal- 
DECOTT supposed it to be the ^ first' edition, that is, pre- 
vious to the edition of 159-5: but this is most improbable. 

• As I pass this through the press, my excellent friend the 
Rev. S. Sole thus writes me : ' I was thinking whether Iesws 
Marte could not be made out of the mouogi-am. You will 
remember Southwell has prefixed these names to one of the 
Elegies. F. Haigh of Erdington Catholic Church, well known 
in the cu'cle of Archaeologists, showed me that it could be done, 
and suggests it as the explanation. Notice the lengthening 
of the upright line of the E in the monogi-am on the left of 
the page ; this may be the I of lesus ; which otherwise can be 
formed without much stretch. The monogi-am would thus read 
R. S. Jesus Marye.' 


Moreover, incompleteness is no evidence, inasmuch as 
the St. Peter's Complaint, with only ' Content and Ritche' 
of Edinburgh, bears the much later date 1G34, while 
161G and 1G20 editions of London are exceedingly imper- 
fect. The exemplar now described is that of the Anglo- 
Poetica, where it was priced 211. The memorandum 
date of 1595 in Chalmers' copy I suspect was simply a 
note that it was a reprint of the 1595 edition. It would 
seem that Professor John Johnston of St. Andrews — 
a notable man, as shown in M'Crie's Life of Andrew 
Melville and Dr. Irving's ' Lives of Scottish Writers' 
— had some oversight of this edition. 

Peters Com- 

With other Poems. 



Printed by Robert Walde-graue 

Printer to the Kings Majestie 

cum Privilegio Regis. 

A Sonnet bearing Johnston's initials is oddly inserted at 
page 30, at close of Saint Peter's Complaint. It may 
find place here, the more so that it has never since been 
reprinted : 


Sonnet : A Sinfull Soule to Christ. 

I lurk, I lowve iu dungeon deepe of mynd, 
In mourning moode, I run a restles race ; 
With wounding pangs my soule is sorelie pyn'd, 
My gi-iefe it gi-owes, and death drawes on a pace : 

What life can last except there come releace ? 
Feare threats, dispaire ; my siune infernall wage. 
I faint, I fall : most wofull is my cace ; 
Who can me helpe, who may this storme assuage ? 

O Lord of life, our peace, our only i^leaye, pica .' 

O blesful light, who life of death hast wix)ught. 
Of heau'nlie loue the hrightsome beame, and hage, hen/ ! 
Who by Thy death from death and hell vs brought, 

Reviue my soule ; my sinnes, my sores redresse, 

That liue I may with Thee in lasting blesse. I. I. 

The collation is in all 28 leaves : sigs. A to G : and the 
contents (except the addition of Johnston's sonnet) cor- 
respond with those of 1595, and follow the same order. 
The Epistles only are awanting. Another Scottish edition 
of Saint Peter's Complaint, with Content and Ilitche — 
already named — bears the imprint ' Edinbvrgh, Printed 
by lohn Wreittoun, Anno Dom. 1634' (4to, 19 leaves). 
That assigned to Robert Waldegrave, Edmbiirgh, 1600 
(4to), by TuRNBULL, I suspect to be an imagination : at 
least I have failed to trace a copy anywhere. 

These are all the quarto editions known. Others 
are in duodecimo, and are combined with more or less 
full collections of the Prose Writings. On the next page 
is the title-page of the earliest smaller edition, of which 
the collation is: Title-page; Epistle- Dedicatory ' To my 
worthy good cosen, Maister W. S.' 2 pp.; The Avthovr 
to the Reader (izs), 2 pp.; St. Peter's Complaint, pp. 
1-34; St. Peter's Peccaui [.?z'c, = David's Peccavi and 
Sin's Heavy Load], St. Peter's Rctnrne Home [ = Look 

XV 111 


Homel, Saint Peter's Comfort [ = Scorn not the Least 
and Times go by turns], Saint Peter's Wish [ := Li e is 
but Loss], pp. 35-42 ; ' Finis' being placed on the last. 
Then follows Sainte Mary Magdalen's Fvnerall Teares 
rprose], pp. 43-157; 'Finis' again being placed on the 
last Then St. Mary Magdalen's Blvsh, No loy to Liue, 
St Mary Magdalen's Traunce [ = Lewd Love is LosseJ, 
Sainte Mary Magdalen's Farewell [ = From Fortunes 
Reach] At Home in Heauen, Christ's Natiuity, Christ s 
Childhood, and the Christian's Manna (of which more 
immediately), pp. 158-170, and 'Finis' once more on 
the last. The edition of 1G20 is identical throughout 
with the preceding. ^ 

S. Peters 


Saint Mary 


Fvnerall Teares. 

With sundry other selected, 

and deuout Poems. 

By R. S. of the Society of lesvs. 

Is any among you sad 1 Let him pray. Is Iw of a 
cheerfiill hart ? Let him sing. lac. 5. 

[Doway] Permissu Superiorum. m.dc.xvi. 


Of ' The Christian's Manna' Turnbull thus speaks : 
' This [edition 1620] has annexed to it "The Christian's 
Manna," a poem not in any other edition [a mistake, as 
it had previously appeared with the same heading in 
161G edition]. But Mr. Park considers it "has no le- 
gitimate claim to be considered as his production." On 
this point I am neither able myself to form an opinion, 
nor give others an opportunity for doing so; since, in 
spite of every effort, I have been unable to find a copy 
of the edition' (Ritson, Bib. Poet, 341 n.) — (p. xxxvi.). 
Later, Mr. J. Payne Collier, in his ' Bibliographical 
Account' (s.n.), in recording the 1620 edition of London, 
which also contains the ' Short Eules of Good Life,' ob- 
serves : ' To the present copy is added a poem called " The 
Christian's Manna" not found elsewhere [a mistake, as 
with Turnbull], but which, though not reprinted by Mr. 
Turnbull, there is no sufficient reason for doubting to be 
by Southwell;' and then with high praise follows a quo- 
tation. Still later, Mr. W. Carew Hazlitt, in his ' Hand- 
book of Early English Literature' (1867), has this note 
under the 1616 edition: 'This edition and the next 
contain the very doubtful piece entitled The Christian's 
Manna, which was not included in the English and Scot- 
tish editions.' All have been misled by the Anglo-Poetica. 
After all this, our Readers will be amused to learn that 
' The Christian's Manna' is only ' Of the blessed Sacra- 
ment of the Aulter' under a new title, as pointed out in 
our Notes and Illustrations in the place. Of course this 
establishes its genuineness, seeing that the poem is not 
only in Add!, ms. 10.422, but in our Stonyhurst ms. 
It was printed unknowingly by Turnbull (pp. 157-160). 
None of the other changes of headings in 1616 and 1620 


have before been observed. There were enlarged editions 
— the additions being Prose — in 1G30 and 1634. That 
of 1030, ' London, printed by I. Haviland, and sonld by 
Robert Allott' (the same engraved title-page with the 
London edition of 1G20), has all the Poems of 159(J and 
of ' Majonige' 1595, and Marie Magdalen's Fvnerall Teares, 
Triumphs over Death and Short Rules of Good Life. 
Barrett the Publisher dedicates this edition ' To the 
right Honorable Richard, Earle of Dorset,' who was the 
third earl and second son of Robert Sackville, second earl, 
by his first wife Margaret, only daughter of Thomas 
Howard, fourth duke of Norfolk, on which ' fair lady's' 
death our Worthy wrote his 'Triumphs of Death.' He 
was also the patron-friend of Donne and Bishop Henry 
King. The Epistle follows : 

' My Lord, — The entertainment which this worke in 
the seueral parts therof hath formerly found with men 
of exact iudgment, may be a sufficient testimony, that 
it is not (now) offered vnto your Lordship for that it stands 
in need of protection (the vsuall apologie of euery tri- 
uiall Painphletter), much lesse to emendicate any others 
suffrages, beyond the knowne worth thereof: the onely 
reason of this present boldnesse, and my excuse for thus 
presuming to recommend it to your honorable hands, 
being, that as the Author thereof had long since dedi- 
cated some peeces of the whole to sundrie particular 
branches of that noble stocke and familie whereof your 
Lordship is (and long may you be a strong and flourish- 
ing arme !), so now my selfe hauing first collected these 
dismembred parcels into one body, and published them 
in an entire edition, I held it a kinde of sacrilege to de- 


fraud your noble name of the right which you may so 
justly challenge thereunto, which by the sunshine of 
your fauour shall bee as it were reanimated; and he en- 
couraged to further endeuours, who in the meane time is 
at your Lordship's seruice. « ^l Barret.' 

The allusions in this Epistle-dedicatory are explained 
by the Verse-dedication of the ' Triumphs over Death' 
to ' the WorshipfuU M. Richard Sackuile, Edward Sack- 
uile, Cicily Sackuile and Anne Sackuile, the hopefull 
issues of the honorable gentleman, Master Robert Sack- 
uile Esquire.' This verse-dedication follows : 

Most lines do not the best conceit containe ; 

Few words, well coucht, may comprehend much matter : 

Then as to use the fu-st is counted vaine, 

So is't jn-aise-worthy to conceit the latter. 

The gi-auest wits that most gi-aue works ex^Dect, 

The qualitie, not quantitie respect. 

The smallest sparke will cast a burning heat, 
Base cottages may harbour things of worth : 
Then though this volume be, nor gay nor great, 
Which under your protection I set forth : 
Do not with coy disdainefull ouersight 
Deny to read this well meant orphan's mite. 

And since his father in his infancy 
Prouided patrons to protect his heire : 
But now by Death's none-sparing crueltie, 
Is turnd an orphan to the open ayre : 
I, his unworthy foster-sire haue dar'd 
To make you Patronizer of this ward. 

You glorying issues of that glorious dame, 
Whose life is made the subiect of Death's will : 
To you, succeeding hopes of mother's fame, 
I dedicate this first of Southwel's quill : 
He for your unkle's comfort first it writ, 
I for your consolation print and send you it. 


Then daine in kindnesse to accept the worke, 

Which he in kindnesse writ I send to you : 

The which till now clouded, obscure did lurke : 

But now opposed to each Reader's view, 

May yeeld commodious fruit to every wight, 

That feeles his conscience prickt by Parens spight. 

But if in ought I haue presumptuous beene, 

My pardon-craning pen implores your fauour : 

If any fault in print be past unseene. 

To let it passe, the Printer is the crauer : 

So shall he thanke you and I by duty bound, 

Pray that in you may all good gifts abound. S. W. 

F. G. Waldron, who in 1783, in an appendix to 
an edition of Ben Jonson's ' Sad Shepherd,' gave a few 
pieces from Southwell, and which were reprinted by 
Headley in his ' Beauties,' supposed the above verse- 
dedication to have been composed by Southwell him- 
self, and the initials (S. W.) to denote S[outh] W[en]. 
TuRNBULL repeats this without correction. The suppo- 
sition is of the wildest. It is neither suggested nor sup- 
ported, but contradicted by the sense and style of the 
verses, and in the third and fourth stanzas his death is 
distinctly named. If I might hazard a more likely con- 
jecture, the S. W. is = W. S. the ' loving cosen' of the 
Epistle-dedicatory of the Poems of 1595, that is, in such 
case, his 'loving cosen' had something to do with the 
edition, and added his initials reversed. But of course 
the full signature of John Trussel in 1596 edition gives 
the Verses to him. 

Such were the original and early editions of the 
Poems of Southwell : and I have now to show that 
they all prove faulty in their text when collated with the 
Author's own mss. at Stonyhurst College. Taking Leake's 


edition (1596, though undated) as a basis, I submit these 
dozen examples of errors ; others are pointed out in our 
Notes and Illustrations : 

1. ' Yet higher poures [ - powers] must think though 
they repine,' in 'Scorne not the Leaste' (st. i. line 5), mis- 
reads ' most' for ' must.' 

2. ' Untowched of man, yet mother of a sonne,' in ' Our 
Ladye's Spousalls' (st. i. line 2), misreads ' Vntaught' for 
' Untowched.' 

3. 'Unwonted workes with wonted veyles to hide,' in 
the same poem (st. i. line G), misreads 'wiles' for 'veyles.' 

4. ' blessed man, betroth'd to such a spouse,' in the 
same (st. ii. line 5), misreads ' betrothd too much' for ' to 

5. ' Thus had she virgins', wives' and widowes' crowns,' 
in the same (st. iii. line 5), misreads ' the' for ' she.' 

6. ' In thee their joy and soveraigne they agnize,' in 
'Our Ladie's Salutation' (st. ii. line 2), misreads ' they' 
for ' their.' 

7. ' With weeping eyes His mother reu'd His smart, 

If hlood from Him, teares rann from her as fast,' 

in 'The Circumcision' (st. iii. lines 1-2), misreads ' his' 
for 'her;' and again in line 4, 'The payne that Jesus 
felt did Mary tast,' misreads ' set' for ' felt.' 

8. ' And from a thorne nowe to a floure He fledd,' in 
' Christe's Keturn out of Egipt' (st. ii. line 6), misreads 
' throne' for ' thorne.' 

9. ' His worthes all prayses farr exceed,' in ' Lauda 
Syon Sal.' (st. i. line 5), misreads 'workes' for 'worthes.' 

10. 'The jjrme use of this mystery,' in the same poem. 
(st. iii. line 6), misreads ' prince' for ' prime,' 

11. 'No heed of their deceivinge shiftes,' in ' The Pro- 


digall Chylde's Soule Wracke' (st. xii. line 2), misreads 
' receiuing' for ' deceivinge.' 

12. ' The world with jesses of delight,' in ' Man's Civill 
Warre' (st. iii. line 3), misreads 'lesses'for 'jesses:' and 
in the same (st. v. Hne 3), ' Foes senses are to vertue's 
lore,' misreads ' and' for ' are:' and again (st, vi. line 4), 
' Or truce of halves the whole betraye,' misreads ' trust' 
for 'truce.' 

I have selected these out of (Uterally) scores similar, 
because, with the exception of the egregious one of ' throne' 
for 'thorne' (No. 8), the first edition (1595) has the same 
blunders, and so the other early editions enumerated by 
us. Our Notes and Illustrations will supply abundantly 
more. Turnbull corrects none of these misreadings, 
save the very few corrected for him in his text of 1634, 
and, as we shall see, superadds as many of his own. 

It will be evident that none of the printed texts from 
1595 to 1856 is to be regarded as accurate or authori- 
tative. This being so, I turned to the British Museum 
Manuscripts (Addl.Mss. 10.422 andHarleiannss. 6921): 
but after a laborious collation, these, while yielding by a 
happy chance better occasional readings — and which are 
confirmed by the Stonyhurst mss. — proved flagrantly 
blundering. The Addl. mss. 10,422 is unquestionably 
the superior : but taking St. Peter's Complaint, here are 
specimens of its misreadings : 

1, St. i. line 2, ' Full fraught with teares' for ' full 
fraught with grief,' the ' teares' being caught from the 
preceding line. 

2, St. ii. line 4, ' in penance wed' for ' to penance,' 

3, St. xii. line 2, 'now leasf for ' now left.' 


4. St. xiii. line 3, ' What trust to one' for ' in one.' 

5. St. xviii. line 1, ' a sea of showi^es' for 'a sea of 

6. St. xxii, line 4, ' With hellish dunge to fertill 
heavenly desires' for ^heaven's desires.' 

7. St. xxiv. line 5, ' My other were stones . . .' for 
' My oaths: 

8. St. xxxviii. line 4, ' Soule's wilfull fame, synne's 
lost stealing face' for ' wilfull famine' and ' sq/i!-stealing.' 

9. St. xliii. line 5, * unquanted hunger' for ' unac- 
quainted hunger.' 

10. St. xlvi. line 1, ' ah ! that ever I saw it' for ' ah ! 
that I ever saw it.' 

11. St. Ixii, 1. 3, ' You nectar'd amhrose' for ' ambries : 

12. St, Ixviii. line G, ' all the skrikes' for * scribes: 

13. St. Ixxii. line 2, ' God soone' for ' God, sun.' 

14. St. xcvii. line 3, ' To iZame your babes' for Um- 

1 5. St. cxvii, 1. G, ' shop of share' for ' shop of slmme: 

It were endless to enumerate the dropping and misplac- 
ing of words and the uncouth orthography. The same 
result is obtained in collating the shorter poems. I ad- 
duce only half-a-dozen examples : 

1 . ' Flye fortune's subtleties' for ' Sly,' in ' Fortune's 
Falsehood' (st. i. line 2). 

2. '>S'o?«e- dying mirth' for ' sooue-dying mirth,' in 
' Marie Magdalen's Blush' (st. i. line G). 

3. ' Lett thy farewell guide thy thought' for \foreioit: 
in ' Losse in Delay' (st. ii. line 6). 

4. ' Where pleasure's upshott is to denye accurst' for 
' die accurst,' in ' What Joy to line' (st. v. line C). 




;'). ' Such hyde tlie light' for ' Sunne, hyde thy light' 
(' Death of our Ladie,' st. iii. line 5). 

6. ' For sith no price can thy worth amount' for ' to 
thy worth; in ' The Presentation' (st. i- line 5). 

Similar errors might be exhibited to almost any extent, 
but it cannot be required. It was this ms. Walter and 
TuRNBULL consulted and used. It had formerly been in 
the Heber collection. From its contents and arrange- 
ment I was inclined to think it must have been the same 
Manuscript that is stated by Dr. Oliver (as before) 
to have been in the Catholic Church of Bury St. Ed- 
munds, and which has long been missing there : but the 
presence of St. Peter's Complaint in full in it seems to 
make this doubtful. Seeing that G921 (Harleian mss.) is 
of like and even faultier character, I do not deem it ne- 
cessary to record the result of our collation of it. Both 
swarm with mistakes of every conceivable sort, in addi- 
tion to a punctuation that is chaos. Yet, as our Notes 
and llhistrations show, both yield some admirable correc- 
tions of the printed edition. 

It is pleasant to turn from the printed texts and these 
MSS. to the Stonyhurst mss. The principal ms. of the 
Poems is a handsome volume, one plainly upon which the 
Jesuits set much store. It is daintily bound in vellum, 
with gilt edges, and written very beautifully throughout 
in one hand, with the exception of one poem, viz. The 
Prodigall Chylde's Soule Racke, which, though occur- 
ring in the body of the volume, is wholly in Southwell's 
autograph. The badge of the Society of Jesus is upon 
the cover. This ms. must have been prepared for the 
Author himself, inasmuch as while now and again self- 


correcting mistakes are left inadvertently, there are re- 
peated corrections in his own autograph, revealing care- 
ful reading and interest. Our fac-similes (in the illus- 
trated quarto) show both the ms. and a correction, and 
also from another autograph ms. the Poet's handwriting 
and signature. Besides this Volume, there are various 
separate mss. in Southwell's own autograph, notably the 
Latina Poemata, which it is my privilege to print for 
the first time. But as these, with the exception of the 
remarkable Latin poems, are in Prose, I reserve farther 
notice of them for our Memorial-Introduction. 

It may be well to give proof of the value and autho- 
rity of the Stonyhurst ms. Our waning space forbids 
enlargement : but in Notes and Illustrations other ex- 
amples will be found in plenty. I shall select instances 
that will at the same time serve to show Turnbull's er- 
roneous readings. 

Turning to the ' Visitation' (st. i. 1. 5), we read in the 
early editions and British Museum mss. ' Her youth to 
age, herself e to sicke she lends.' So it stood in the ori- 
ginal text of the Stonyhurst ms.; but Southwell has 
made it ' Her youth to age, her lielih to sicke she lends,' 
giving meaning to what was nonsense. Turnbull per- 
petuates the nonsense. 

Again, in ' David's Peccavi' (st. ii. line 4), the Stony- 
hurst MS. reads ' My garments gyve-^ [=fetters]. Turn- 
bull has * My garments give.'' 

Once more, in ' Seeke Flowers of Heaven' (st. v. 
lines 3-4) reads in Turnbull, ' Most glittering gold 
in lieu of glebe. These fragrant flowers do yield.' So 
also the Stonyhurst ms. originally, but corrected by the 
Author as the sense requires, ' doth yield.' 


Yet again, in * Mary Magdalen's Complaint' (st. v. 
line 2), Turnbull reads, ' In the sunne of happiness :' 
the Stonyhurst ms. corrects ' In the summed 

Farther, in ' What Joy to live' (st. iii. 1. 1), Turnbull 
misreads, ' Here loan is lent :' the Stonyhurst ms. corrects 
' loue' for * loan ;' and so in st. iv. line 5, for Turnbull's 
' luring gain,'' Southwell corrects by ' ayme.' 

Again, in ' Love's servile Lot' (st. vi. line 2), Turn- 
bull reads haltingly, ' Yet doth draw it from thee :' the 
Poet fills-in in the Stonyhurst ms. * she' before ' draw.' 

Once more, in ' Love's servile Lot' (st. xii. line 1), 
Turnbull reads, ' With soothed words enthralled souls:' 
the Stonyhurst ms. corrects ' soothed' into ' soothing.' 

Farther, in ' Content and Eitche' (st. vi. line 3), Turn- 
bull reads, ' Effects attend, or not desire ;' the Stony- 
hurst MS. ' Effects aUeyn\l or not desired.^ 

Again, in Dyer's Phancy' (st. i. line 3), Turnbull 
reads, ' Whose hope is salve ;' the Stonyhurst ms. ' Whose 
hope is falne.^ 

Finally, in ' I die Alive' (st. iii. line 1), Turnbull 
reads, ' Thus still I dye, yet still I do remayne.^ So ori- 
ginally in the Stonyhurst ms. as in the Harleian ms. But 
in the former there has been study to make the line of 
which it is the final word accord in rhyme with the line 
which is balanced with it, and which ends in ' alive.' First 
of all the word ' rehjve! was substituted ; and that not 
satisfying, ' revive' was finally adopted. The radical 
changes and the study evinced reveal the Poet's own au- 
thority and care. Moreover, when we consider that the 
Harleian ms. has the word ' remayne' and the consequent 
defect of rhyme ; and that the same care which has ren- 
dered the Stonyhurst ms. superior here and in many 


similar cases, down to minute corrections of ortliography 
(and so in the Prose mss.), has been bestowed upon the 
whole work — not to speak of the fact that this Volume 
is and always has been in the hands of the Society of 
which Southwell was a member, and that the beauty 
of the MS. confirms one's expectation that to his own 
brethren he would have presented a copy of his own 
poems worthy of him and of them — the Stonyhurst ms. 
must {meo judicio) be assigned the highest, if not absolute 
authority. Accordingly I have taken it for my text, albeit 
in Notes and Illustrations I have pointed out the ' vari- 
ous readings' of the early printed editions, and adopted 
an occasional correction of the Stonyhurst mp. oversights. 
The Stonyhurst jis. is arranged as shown in our Con- 
tents, and includes all those in the British Museum mss. 
published by Walter and Turnbull, Curiously enough, 
St, Peter's Complaint is given only in an abbreviated 
form, as recorded in the preliminary Note to our reprint, 
and I have reports of various ms. copies of a similar kind.^ 
I know not that the extension of the Poem has added to 
its value. Its absence from the Stonyhurst ms. in full 
would seem to argue that it was a later poem than the 
others. For the text of St. Peter's Complaint I have 
selected Leake's edition of 1596, with relative Notes and 
Illustrations at the close. 

Our Notes and Illustrations throughout will furnish 
sorrowful examples of the utter carelessness of Turnbull 
(in addition to the foregoing). I may farther refer to 
pp. 4G, 47, 48, 50, 53, 54, 55, 65, 70, 71, 75, 81, 86, 90, 
and so onwards ocZ nauseam. Of Walter's edit. (1817) 

' Sec more ou the formatiou of St. Peter's Complaint in our 
Memorial- Introduction. 


suffice it to say generally, that in the complete Poems 
(apart from our additions for the first time) there are in 
all 57, while Walter gives only 15, and 3 from Addl. 
Mss. 10.422. Specifically his manipulation of the ad- 
dress of the ' Author to the Reader' will be enough. In 
1595 edition (his avowed text) st. ii. thus reads : 

If equities euen-hand the ballance held, 

Where Peters sinnes and ours were made the weightes : 

Ounce, for his Dramme : Pound, for his Ounce we yeeld : 

His ship would groane to feele some sinners frightes. 

So ripe is vice, so gi'eene is vertues bud : 

The world doth waxe in ill, but waine in good. 

In Walter we have this without a shred of authority : 

If Justice' even hand the balance held. 

Where Peter's sins and ours were made the weights. 
How S7nall hU share, cojupafd to what we yield! 

His ship would gi-oan, &c. 

He gives only three out of the four stanzas of this poem, 
and tacks on for the missing fourth stanza the closing one 
of the first address to the Reader, omitting the others there- 
in. Then in ' A Fancy turned to a Sinner's Complaint,' 
after stanza iv. no fewer than eight verses are omitted, 
and another, and other five, and again other three, and 
twice one; and so throughout. Turnbull said con- 
temptuously, ' I refrain from criticism on Mr. Walter's 
text :' severe but not undeserved, only his own is scarcely 
one whit better, and in places worse. I deplore the sad 
necessity laid on me thus to pronounce on one so labori- 
ous as Turnbull. Our finest Literature would get cor- 
rupted, if such editing were not exposed and censured. 

In basing my edition on the Stonyhurst mss., I can- 
not sufficiently utter my sense of indebtedness to the 
custodiers of them, seeing that they not only give us a 


superior and authoritative text, but the hitherto unprinted 
Latin Poems. J^or must I omit very cordially and grate- 
fully to acknowledge the loving and careful helpfulness 
of the Rev. S. Sole, of St. Mary's College, Oscott, Bir- 
mingham, in collating and recollating the text, and in re- 
reading our proofs with the mss. ' To err is human,' so 
that I cannot hope to have presented an immaculate edi- 
tion ; but I can in all honesty say no pains, no toil, has 
been spared to try to make it worthy of the Poet. It 
may be as well to state, that I may have failed to repro- 
duce literally an occasional ' u' for ' v' and ' v' for ' u,' and 
perhaps ' hee' for ' he,' and the like. I have also thought 
it expedient to introduce the apostrophe and the usual 
capitals in divine names and personifications (nouns and 
pronouns), and, as explained in relative Notes, have ad- 
opted our ' Tho?/' instead of ' Thow,' ' too' for ' to,' and 
' thee' for ' the,' as in present usage. The Notes and Il- 
lustrations at close of each poem discuss various read- 
ings, punctuation, obscurities, &c. &c.; and here I wish 
most heartily to thank Deputy- Inspector-General Dr. 
Brinsley Nicholson for his varied and luminous com- 
munications in elucidation and illustration of the text. 
As in Vaughan and Crashaw, and as in Marvell, 
Donne and Sidney forthcoming, my editions owe much 
and will owe more to his affluent reading, rare insight, 
and most generous willinghood to aid us in our ' labour 
of love.' The Shakesperean Reader will thank Dr. 
NicuoLSON for putting us in the track of the Shake- 
speare allusions noted in our Memorial- Introduction, only 
one of many like services. 

As before, I have to thank my helpers on the otlier 
Worthies for continued and increasing interest in my 


books. To the authorities of Jesus College, Oxford, I 
am indebted for the use of the extremely rare 1595 edi- 
tions of St. Peter's Complaint and other Poems and 
Majonia;, and to the same at Stonyhurst College for use 
of other early editions ; and also to Dr. Hannah of 
Brighton, for scarce editions and some annotations and 

In our illustrated quarto edition I have the satisfac- 
tion to present a photo-facsimile by Pouncey of Dor- 
chester of the Christ of Leonardo da Vinci's renowned 
fresco in the convent Maria delle Grazie, Milan, of ' The 
Last Supper.' It may be permitted me to state, that 
after days and days' study of the very best engravings {e.g. 
Morghen's) of this mighty picture, while seated before 
the original, I never have seen a faithful reproduction 
of it, emphatically never have seen even an approach to 
faithfulness in the face of The Lord. I must regard our 
photograph — specially taken for me and under my own 
eyes in Milan — as an infinite advance on the engravings. 
The sorrow-laden eyes, hds heavily, burningly, tearlessly 
pressed down in fathomless sorrow and shame under the 
coming Betrayal (how large-orbed if the lids were raised!) ; 
the quivering lips as the awful words are spoken, 'Verily 
/ say unto you, that one of you shall betray Me ;' the 
wasted cheek, broad-shadowed; the ineffable sweetness of 
the mouth and dimpled chin ; the magnificent dome of 
brow — no nimbus there, and not needed, any more than is 
a crown needed to mark out the true king ; the thin, pre- 
maturely blanched, though abundant hair, — are brought 
out, as I think, with incomparable superiority in our fac- 
simile — all the more that the pathetic marks of ' Time's 
effacing fingers' are inevitably given. I have seen many 

Christs by the great Masters, but Leonardo da Vinci's 
conception abides unapproached and unapproachable. As 
an ilhistration of Southwell's poems, all so radiant with 
the light of His Face, every one will agree it is most 
fitting. Besides the Christ, as already named, I furnish 
two Fac-similes, by Wort, of New Oscott, Birmingham, 
of Southwell's mss. from Stonyhurst — (1), from the 
author's ms. of Poema de Assumptione B.V.M. ; (2), 
from the Stonyhurst ms. volume. With reference to the 
former, an examination of the >is. satisfies that the poem 
and signature were written by the same hand and at the 
same time as the latter and larger portion. One is a 
careful measured hand, suited to the writing of a poem 
in a complete form ; the other is his own signature, 
written freely as he naturally would write in signing his 
name. It is in the same dark ink. III. The same of 
the title-page of the 1596 edition of St. Peter's Com- 
plaint and other Poems. 

For other things I refer my Readers to our Memo- 
rial-Introduction and Notes and Illustrations. I feel it 
to be no common privilege to be really the first worthily 
and adequately and in integrity to present Southwell 
as a Poet. 

Alexander B. Grosart. 

1.5 St. Alban's Place, Blackburn, Lancashire. 
February 27th, 1872. 

P.S. I add here the judgment of Edmund Bolton, 
whom Warton calls ' a sensible [old] Critic,' on South- 
well's works, from Hypercritica (Oxon. 1772, written 
before 1616): 'Never must be forgotten "St. Peter's 



Complaint," and those other serious Poems, said to be 
Father Southwell's ; the English whereof, as it is most 
proper, so the sharpness and light of wit is very rare in 
them.' This quotation from Bolton was first used by 
Warton (H.E.P. iii. 230:" 1781), next by Headley 
(1787, p. Ixv.), and next by Park in a note to Cens. 
Lit. (ii. 78), whence Walter copied it (p. xviii.) almost 
in Park's own words, and Willmot (i. 15 note) has also 
secured it. Sir Egerton Brydges has it in his new 
edition of Philips (p. 219 note) and Ritson (Bibl. Poet. 
342). Brydges also quotes it in his Adv. to the reprint 
of ' Triumphs of Death' — and so the hackneyed words go 
from critic to critic. I hope our edition will lead some 
to read for themselves. 

Dr. Bliss, in his edition of the Athenm Oxoniemis 
(s.n.), has corrected Wood's odd mis-assignation of South- 
well's Poems to John Davies of Hereford. We owe 
too much to Wood to deal hardly with him for occasional 
slips of this kind. G. 


I. The Life. 

The Life-story of Southwell beyond his Writings is a 
brief one on the earthly-side, albeit on the thither hea- 
venly-side, I do not doubt it fills many a page of the 
Great Biographer's ' Book of remembrance' — as does 
every beautiful and meek life. And so in Eternity, and 
through Eternity's audience, there ' remaineth' compensa- 
tion over-against the large and clamorous ' biographies' in 
Time and for contemporaries, of multitudes ' great' only 
in an unconsecrate use of the word. Sibbes' ' resurrec- 
tion' of saintly ' memories, as well as of bodies,' is of the 
certainties, and the demonstration that to be good, simply 
and quietly, is the most abiding greatness. We are far 
off from the Facts, and the Facts are few, of our Worthy's 
life ; but a fragrance sweeter than cere-cloth perfumes is 
blown to us across the centuries from it. So that, with 
all the dimness, we can discern that in him England 
held one who was of her truest, purest, bravest, lovingest, 
Christliest sons. 

Collins records of the Southwells that the ' antient 
and honourable family,' whence all came, derived its name 
from the town of Southwell, in Nottinghamshire, where 
he says, the * chief branch continued to reside until the 


reign of Henry VI.' The first ancestor, however, of the 
Norfolk house — our Worthy's — found in the Pedigrees ; 
and I have wearied myself over well-nigh ' endless gene- 
alogies' — was John Southwell, of Felix Hall in Essex, 
who was M.P. for Lewes in Sussex in 28 and 29 Henry 
VI. He had two sons, Robert and John. John was 
ancestor to the Southwells now represented by Vis- 
count Southwell in Ireland. Robert Southwell, the 
elder son, succeeded his father at Felix Hall. In 1415, 
according to Collins, he was made trustee to the Dukk 
OF Norfolk. He married Isabella, daughter of John 
Boys, Esq. of Norfolk, and had by her Richard, his son 
and heir, who in the Act of Resumption (3 and 4 Ed- 
ward IV.) had his grant from the King saved. This 
Richard's first wife was Amy, daughter and heiress of 
Sir Edmund Wychingham, of Wood-rising in Norfolk 
(by Alice, daughter and heiress of Sir John Falstolfe, 
' a name to conjure with'). With her, he obtained the 
manor of Wood-rising, ' where — quitting Felix Hall — he 
fixed his residence, and there his posterity had a noble 
seat and fine park, which continued in the family for 
many generations.' There were two sons of this mar- 
riage ; but Sir Robert, the elder, died without issue in 
1513. Francis Southwell, his brother, was Auditor 
of the Exchequer to Henry VIII. ; and by Dorothy, 
daughter and co-heir of William Tendring, Esq., had 
four sons — ] . Sir Richard Southwell, his heir. 2. 
Sir Robert, Master of the Rolls. 3. Francis. 4. An- 
thony. For the descendants of the latter three I must 
refer those curious in such matters to Blomefield's well- 
known county History. I limit myself, except in one 
memorable thing to be after-noted, to Sir Richard 


SouTHWELi, and his line. He was our Poet's grand- 
father. Of him Blomefield, under Wood Rysing, thus 
recounts his 'honours:' * He was a great favourite of 
King Henry VIII. ; one of the visitors appointed by 
him of the monasteries in Norfolk on their suppression ; 
of the Privy- council to that King, Edward VI., and 
Queen Mary ; master of the ordnance and armory ; one 
of the executors to Henry VIII. ; and high-steward of 
the Duchy of Lancaster.'^ Farther : ' In the reign of 
Queen Mary he made a remarkable speech (1554) in the 
House of Lords (sic) on that Queen's being with child, 
and an act of Parliament thereon passed ; about the 
government of the realm, and the person of the child, in 
case of that Queen's decease.'^ The county History also 
enumerates about thirty manors in Norfolk of which this 
Sir Richard Southwell was lord in 37 Henuy VIII. 
It also states, * Great part of his inheritance, with this 
lordship (Wood-rising), came to his nephew, Thomas 
Southwell, son of Sir Robert Southwell by Mar- 
garet his wife, daughter and sole heir of Thomas Nevill, 
fourth son of George, Lord Abergavenny. '^ Unhap- 
pily this Sir Richard Southwell introduced not a few 
bars sinister (if I may venture to use heraldic phraseo- 
logy) into the House.'* During the lifetime of his first 

' Blomefield, vol. x. pp. 276-7, eel. 1809. 

- HoUiugshecl, p. 112-1. ^ Blomefield, as before. 

■■ Blomefield refers, in his account of the illegitimate family 
of Sib Richard, to Su- Henry Spelman's History of Sacrilege, 
p. 270. I may remark in passing (with all reverence) that it 
was part of the ' humiliation' of The Lord to have in His human 
descent not gi'eat and holy ones merely, hut this record also : 
' Salmon begat Booz of Rachah ; and Booz begat Ohed of Ruth' 
(St. Matthew i. 5). 


reign of Henry VI.' The first ancestor, however, of the 
Norfolk house — our Worthy's — found in the Pedigrees ; 
and I have wearied myself over well-nigh ' endless gene- 
alogies' — was John Southwell, of Felix Hall in Essex, 
who was M.P. for Lewes in Sussex in 28 and 29 Henry 
VI. He had two sons, Robert and John. John was 
ancestor to the SouTH^YELLS now represented by Vis- 
count Southwell in Ireland. Robert Southwell, the 
elder son, succeeded his father at Felix Hall. In 1415, 
according to Collins, he was made trustee to the Duke 
OF Norfolk. He married Isabella, daughter of John 
Boys, Esq. of Norfolk, and had by her Richard, his son 
and heir, v^ho in the Act of Resumption (3 and 4 Ed- 
ward IV.) had his grant from the King saved. This 
Richard's first wife was Amy, daughter and heiress of 
Sir Edmund Wychingham, of Wood-rising in Norfolk 
(by Alice, daughter and heiress of Sir John Falstolfe, 
*a name to conjure with'). With her, he obtained the 
manor of Wood-rising, ' where — quitting Felix Hall — he 
fixed his residence, and there his posterity had a noble 
seat and fine park, which continued in the family for 
many generations.' There were two sons of this mar- 
riage ; but Sir Robert, the elder, died without issue in 
1513. Francis Southwell, his brother, was Auditor 
of the Exchequer to Henry VIII. ; and by Dorothy, 
(laughter and co-heir of William Tendring, Esq., had 
four sons — ]. Sir Richard Southwell, his heir. 2. 
Sir Robert, Master of the Rolls. 3. Francis. 4. An- 
thony. For the descendants of the latter three I must 
refer those curious in such matters to Blomefield's well- 
known county History. I limit myself, except in one 
memorable thing to be after-noted, to Sir Richard 


Southwell and his line. He was our Poet's grand- 
father. Of him Blomkfield, under Wood Rysing, thus 
recounts his 'honours:' 'He was a great favourite of 
King Heniiy VIII. ; one of the visitors appointed by 
him of the monasteries in Norfolk on their suppression ; 
of the Privy-council to that King, Edward VI., and 
Queen Mary ; master of the ordnance and armory ; one 
of the executors to Henry VIII. ; and high-steward of 
the Duchy of Lancaster.'^ Farther : ' In the reign of 
Queen Mary he made a remarkable speech (1554) in the 
House of Lords (sic) on that Queen's being with child, 
and an act of Parliament thereon passed ; about the 
government of the realm, and the person of the child, in 
case of that Queen's decease.'^ The county History also 
enumerates about thirty manors in J^^orfolk of which this 
Sir Richard Southwell was lord in 37 Henry VIII. 
It also states, ' Great part of his inheritance, with this 
lordship (Wood-rising), came to his nephew, Thomas 
Southwell, son of Sir Robert Southwell by Mar- 
garet his wife, daughter and sole heir of Thomas JSTevill, 
fourth son of George, Lord Abergavenny.'^ Unhap- 
pily this Sir Richard Southwell introduced not a few 
bars sinister (if I may venture to use heraldic phraseo- 
logy) into the House.^ Diirmg the lifetime of his first 

' Blomefield, vol. x. pp. 276-7, ed. 1809. 

■ Hollingshed, p. 112-1. ^ Blomefield, as before. 

* Blomefield refers, in his account of the illegitimate family 
of Sir Richard, to Sir Henry Spelman's History of Sacrilege, 
p. 270. I may remark in passing (with all reverence) that it 
was part of the ' humiliation' of The Lord to have in His human 
descent not gi-eat and holy ones merely, but this record also : 
' Salmon begat Booz of Rachab ; and Booz begat Obed of Ruth' 
(St. Matthew i. 5). 


reign of Henry VI.' The first ancestor, however, of the 
Norfolk house — our Worthy's — found in the Pedigrees ; 
and I have wearied myself over well-nigh ' endless gene- 
alogies' — was John Southwell, of Felix Hall in Essex, 
who was M.P. for Lewes in Sussex in 28 and 29 Henry 
VI. He had two sons, Robert and John. John was 
ancestor to the Southwells now represented by Vis- 
count Southwell in Ireland. Robert Southwell, the 
elder son, succeeded his father at Felix Hall. In 1415, 
according to Collins, he was made trustee to the Dukk 
OF Norfolk. He married Isabella, daughter of John 
Boys, Esq. of Norfolk, and had by her Richard, his son 
and heir, vi^ho in the Act of Resumption (3 and 4 Ed- 
ward IV.) had his grant from the King saved. This 
Richard's first wife was Amy, daughter and heiress of 
Sir Edmund Wychingham, of Wood-rising in Norfolk 
(by Alice, daughter and heiress of Sir John Falstolfe, 
'a name to conjure with'). With her, he obtained the 
manor of Wood -rising, ' where — quitting Felix Hall — he 
fixed his residence, and there his posterity had a noble 
seat and fine park, which continued in the family for 
many generations.' There were two sons of this mar- 
riage ; but Sir Robert, the elder, died without issue in 
1513. Francis Southwell, his brother, was Auditor 
of the Exchequer to Henry VIII. ; and by Dorothy, 
(laughter and co-heir of William Tendring, Esq., had 
four sons — 1. Sir Richard Southwell, his heir. 2. 
Sir Robert, Master of the Rolls. 3. Francis. 4. An- 
thony. For the descendants of the latter three I must 
refer those curious in such matters to Blomefield's well- 
known county History. I limit myself, except in one 
memorable thing to be after-noted, to Sir Richard 


Southwell and his line. He was our Poet's grand- 
father. Of him Blomefikld, under Wood Rysing, thus 
recounts his 'honours:' * He was a great favourite of 
King Henry VIII. ; one of the visitors appointed by 
him of the monasteries in Norfolk on their suppression ; 
of the Privy-council to that King, Edward VI., and 
Queen Mary ; master of the ordnance and armory ; one 
of the executors to Henry VIII. ; and high-steward of 
the Duchy of Lancaster.'^ Farther : * In the reign of 
Queen Mary he made a remarkable speech (1554) in the 
House of Lords (sic) on that Queen's being with child, 
and an act of Parliament thereon passed ; about the 
government of the realm, and the person of the child, in 
case of that Queen's decease.'^ The county History also 
enumerates about thirty manors in ]^forfolk of which this 
Sir Richard Southwell was lord in 37 Henry VIII. 
It also states, ' Great part of his inheritance, with this 
lordship (Wood-rising), came to his nephew, Thomas 
Southwell, son of Sir Robert Southwell by Mar- 
garet his wife, daughter and sole heir of Thomas !N"evill, 
fourth son of George, Lord Abergavenny. '^ Unhap- 
pily this Sir Richard Southwell introduced not a few 
bars sinister (if I may venture to use heraldic phraseo- 
logy) into the House. ^ During the lifetime of his first 

' Blomefield, vol. x. pp. 276-7, ed. 1809. 

2 HoUingshed, p. 1124. ' Blomefield, as before. 

^ Blomefield refers, in his account of the illegitimate family 
of Sir Richard, to Sir Henry Spelman's History of Sacrilege, 
p. 270. I may remark in passing (with all reverence) that it 
was part of the ' humiliation' of The Lord to have in His human 
descent not gi-eat and holy ones merely, hut this record also : 
' Salmon begat Booz of Rachab ; and Booz begat Obed of Ruth' 
(St. Blatthew i. 5). 


wife, by Mary, daughter of Thomas Darcy, of Danbury 
— who eventually became his second wife — he had a num- 
ber of children. The first, Richard, was eldest son, of 
Horsham St. Faith's, Norfolk, who was Hving there 27 
Elizabeth [1585-6]. He died a prisoner in the Fleet. 
He was Father of our Southwell by Bridget, daughter 
of Sir Roger Copley of Roughway, county Sussex (by 
Elizabeth, daughter of Sir WiUiam Shelley), his first 
wife — his second wife having been Margaret, daughter 
of John Styles, Parson of Ellingham. Of the first mar- 
riage — with which alone we are concerned — there were 
issue as follows : 1. Richard, eldest son, of Spixworth, 
county Norfolk, who married Alice, daughter of Sir 
Thomas Cornwallis of Brome, county Suffolk, whence 
descend the Southwells of Kinsale in Ireland, Barons de 
Clifford. 2. Thomas, second son. 

3. Robert, our Poet. 

4. Mary, who married Edward Banister of Idsworth, 
county Hants, Esq. (ms. 2d. 14.186 Coll. Armor.) 5, 
Other four daughters. I do not think it necessary to 
record other issue after the second marriage. 

Robert Southwell was thus the third son of Richard 
Southwell, Esq. of Horsham St. Faith's, which ' estate,' 
and its acquisition, is thus described by Blomefield (as 
before) : ' The site of this priory, with the lordship, lands, 
appropriated rectory, and the rectory and advowson of 
Horsford, were granted about the 36th of Henry VIII. 
to Sir Richard Southwell, of Wood-rising in Norfolk, 
and Edward Elrington (not Ebrington, as inadvertently 
misprinted by Turnbull). Richard Southwell, Esq. 


held it in 1588, who sold it to Sir Henry Hob art, the 
judge, and his son Sm John inherited it.' 

Turning back a moment, our Readers will have ob- 
served the occurrence of the name of Shelley in these 
genealogical details. It is to be remembered ; for Eliza- 
beth, daughter of Sir William Shelley, and mother of 
Bridget Copley, in turn mother of our Worthy, hnks 
the Poet of ' Mteoniai' and ' Myrtai' with the mightier 
Percy Bysshe Shelley. A short table shows this : 

John Shelley, Esq. = Elizabeth, d. and h. of John Michelgrove, 
I of Michelgrove, co. Sussex. 

Sir William Shelley, Edward Shelley, second son of the chief of the 

Knt., eldest son ; one House, settled at Worminghurst Park, co. Kent, 

of the Justices of the and from whom, says W. M. ROSSETTI, Esq., 

Court of Common in his Memoir of J. P. Shelley, ' descends 

Pleas. that branch of the family which has achieveil 

some fleeting distinction in the way of a peer- 
age and a second baronetcy (the first baronetcy, 
in the older line, dates fi-om 1611), and an 
eternal distinction iii giving birth to the " poet 
of poets." ' ( Works, vol. i. pp. xxx.-i. 1870.) 

In other lines there is like association with other his- 
toric names — Sidney, Newton, Howard, Paston, and 
William Lenthall, Speaker of the Long Parliament. 
But the family branches and twigs, marriages and inter- 
marriages, noble and base, renowned and commonplace, of 
the Southwell Family I must leave to be followed up 
by those wishful to do so. I place below helps and au- 

> Besides Blomefield, Collins, Burke and the usual autho- 
rities, I am indebted to my never-faUing friend, the Rev. J. H. 
Clark, M.A., of West Dereham, Norfolk, for full notes from, 
among others, the 'Visitation of Norfolk' (1563), published by 
the Norfolk ArchiT^ological Society, continued and enlarged by 
the late Rev. G. H. Dashwood, M.A. F.S.A., and other Norfolk 
genealogists (18G5). Harleian MS. 1178 is the basis. 


Resident, as undoubtedly Richard Soutiiweli, was, 
at Horsham St. Faith's at the period, there seems no 
reasonable doubt that Robert was born there, and not in 
Suffolk, as Pits earlier, and Fuller copying him, stated. 
After-dates, that will come out in the sequel, enable us 
to fix his birth in 1560-1, or just about the time that 
Mary Queen of Scots — of whom he was destined to sing 
pathetically — ' landed' from France in her native Scot- 
land. A singular anecdote has been transmitted of him 
while an infant — curiously repeated in other Lives, as is 
familiar to all — viz. that he was stolen from his cradle 
by a vagabond woman or ' gipsy.' Being, however, 
speedily missed by his nurse, he was almost immediately 
recovered.^ This * deliverance' was tenderly and grate- 
fully remembered in after years. ' What,' exclaims he, 
' if I had remained with the vagrant ? how abject I how 
destitute of the knowledge or reverence of God ! in what 
debasement of vice, in what great peril of crimes, in what 
indubitable risk of a miserable death and eternal punish- 
ment I should have been V- 

Where he began to * learn letters' has not been told : 
but he was sent over ' very young' to Douai. Inquiries 
there have resulted in the information that the French 
Revolution made havoc of the Books and Papers there, 
so that no memorial exists of its early * scholars.'"' In his 

' TuKNBULL states that the vagrant ' substituted for him 
her own child,' and ' confessed to have been jiromi^ted to the 
crime for the sake of gain' (p. xiv.). 

■•^ TuRNBULL, as before, quotes this p. xiv. 

' From our correspondence with the Librarian of Douai we 
had hoped to find in the possession of H.E. the Archbishop of 
Westminster (Dr. Manning) an early ms. roll of alumni belong- 
ing to the College ; but, in a coiu-teous answer to my appli- 


15th year he passed to Pauis, where he came under the 
care, religiously and educationally, of a once famous 
Englishman, Father Thomas Darbyshire, who. Arch- 
deacon of Essex, for ' conscience' sake' made a sacrifice of 
all his preferments on the accession of Elizabeth.^ This 
' Master' was among the earliest from England to 'join' 
the Society of Jesus ; and we cannot doubt that his per- 
fervid zeal and example quickened his pupil's desire to 
give himself to the same Order. In 1578 at Rome, be- 
fore he was 17, he was enrolled ' amongst the children' 
of St. Ignatius. The date of this event— so central in 
his short Life— is noticeable. It was on the vigil of St. 
Luke (17th October): and it is pleasant to conclude 
that as the vigil of St. Luke was also St. Faith's-day 
(Old style), he chose that day in honour of his native 
place, Horsham St. Faith's. The thing has not hitherto 
been pointed out ; but it seems to verify itself as well as 
confirm the birthplace. ^ 

Young as he was, he had thought of it long before 
he was ' received.' Here is his plaint, rather than com- 
plaint : ' Divulsum ab illo corpore, in quo posita sunt 
mea vita, mens amor, totum cor meum, omnesque ef- 
fectus.'-'^ He still pursued his ' studies,' and spent a con- 
cation, H.E. informed me that he had uo such ms. Suggest- 
ing that it might be preserved at Ushaw, I j^pplied there^also ; 
but Dr. Tate had to report that there was nothing of the kind 

' See Dr. Oliver's 'Collections towards illustrating the Bio- 
gi-aphy of the Scotch, English, and Irish members of the Society 
of Jesus:' (184.5) p. 80, and references to Tanner and to Wood's 
A tliencB. 

- I am indebted to the very Reverend Dr. Husenbeth, Cossey, 
Norwich, for the interesting suggestion. 

• Mori, Hist. Prov. Angl. Soc. Jesu, p. 173. 



siderable portion of his ' noviciate' at Tournay in Bel- 
gium, its climate being pronounced milder and more 
suited to his constitution. ^ The little Memoir in Bishop 
Challoneu's ' Memoirs of Missionary Priests, as well 
Secular as Regular, and of other Catholics of both sexes 
that have suffered death in England on Religious Ac- 
counts, from the year of our Lord 1577 to 1684' (1741, 
8vo), thus summarises these years : ' He was sent over 
young to Doway, where he was, for some time, ahminus 
of the English College or Seminary in that University. 
From thence he went to Rome, and there was received 
into the Society of Jesus when he was but sixteen [in 
17th] years of age. Having finish'd his noviceship, and 
gone thro' his course of Philosophy and Divinity with 
very great satisfaction of his Superiors, he was made 
Prefect of the Studies in the English College of Rome, 
and took that opportunity of applying himself to the 
study of his native language, in which he proved no small 
proficient, as the elegant pieces, both in Prose and Verse, 
which he has publish'd in print abundantly demonstrate.'^ 
The name of I<iXATius Loyola was still a recent ' me- 

' We learn this from More : ' Ne videlicet ardeutem Sanctis 
desideriis juvenem, immoderatis Italia3 nestibus uondum parem, 
duo in uno corpora calores opprimerent, utque tarn prfeclaris 
dotibus ornato, et qui per ardorem qnoerendi spem excitaverat 
exiraia quiedam adipiscendi, non sola Roma uobilitaretur.' (Mori 
Hist. Prov. Angl. Soc. Jesu, p. 177.) 

2 P. 324. The same data are found in More (as before), as 
follows : ' Romam Tornaco rursus vocatus ad pliilosophos, theo- 
loKOsque audiendos, neque ingenio, neque industria, neque laude 
studiorum, aut fructu, neque vita cum virtute acta cuiquam se 
passus est esse inf eriorem. Et ingenii qnidem et industrial laus 
in univers.-c philosophic decretis propugnaudis euituit; tum 
etiam, cum post decursnm thcologife stadium, aliorum studiis est 


mory' and power (he died on July 31st, 1556, or only at 
most five years before Southwell's birth), and his mag- 
nificent and truly apostolic example of burning love, com- 
passion, faith, zeal, self-denial charged the very atmo- 
sphere with sympathy as with electricity; so that it is no 
marvel our Worthy gave himself with a fine self-forget- 
falness and consecration to that Work in which the great 
Founder of the Order wore out his life. The Society 
was then in its first fresh ' love' and force, unentangled 
with political action (real or alleged) ; and I pity the 
Protestant who does not recognise in Loyola and his 
disciples noble men, who, in the fear of God and with a 
passion sprung of compassion, went forth with the shigle 
object to win allegiance to the Lord Jesus Christ. I 
' intermeddle' not with later complications and actual or 
imagined degeneracies into mere political interferences 
and ' plottings.' I wish to hold up clear and high the 
indubitable fact that Loyola himself and (I believe) the 
great body of his followers at the period in which we. are 
concerned, were 'priests' seeking supremely to do spiri- 
tual duty and not to engage in treasons, stratagems, and 

That Southwell and others contemporary had the 
hearts of true Englishmen of ' gentle' descent, and that 
what they sought was ' religious' good for their country 
and countrymen, with not a shadow of thought or ' plot- 
ting' against Elizabeth, I cannot for a moment doubt 

praefectus iu Anglicano de urbe Seminario ; in (j[uo juventus id 
temporis copiosissima, et ingeniorum varietate, et splendore 
florentissima uon facile nisi ab omnibus doetriniB pncsidiis oinato 
atque instructo duccbatur.' (p. 179.) 


in the face of their pathetic and (in the circumstances) 
brave words as 'on oath;' and none the less that as a 
Protestant I must rejoice tliat The Eeformation in Eng- 
land was not undone. I have that faith in Truth that 
makes me confident that it was no righteous way to pre- 
serve The Reformation to 'persecute' and slay cruelly 
and meanly those who held to the ' old Religion' in its 
old forms. The contest might have been more prolonged 
and the final issue different : but prolongation is not 
always delay or loss, and difference does not necessarily 
involve a less desirable result. Of this I am satisfied 
that the ' Blood-shedding' tragically and sorrowfully re- 
corded in Bishop Challoner's matter-full ' Memoirs' and 
Dodd's great * Church History of England,' and Dr. Oli- 
ver's ' Collections,' wears as black a colour as any in 
FoxE. There is no monopoly of martyrdoms. 

Our Worthy repeatedly gives utterance to his love 
for his Order, and Tanner furnishes many quotable bits: 
e.g. ' Nescio an quis alius unquampost sanctissimum Pa- 
rentem ejus Ignatium, majorem de Societate Jesu sen- 
sum, majorem vocationis sure foverit sestimationem, quam 
RoBERTUs SouTHWELLUS. . . . Scripsit aliquando in sua 
ad socios Romam epistola S. Xaverius, oeternum anim^ 
su£e exitium imprecans, si unquam ab amore dilectissimje 
su« religionis descisceret : " si oblitus," inquit, " fuero 
tui, Societas Jesu, oblivion! detur dextera mea." Sed 
an non sublimes ejus de hoc ordine conceptus adajquarit, 
si non superaret Robertus, clarissimo in Anglia gentis 
SouthweUiae natus sanguine, ex his qua^ sua propria manu 
consignavit, patebit.'^ 

' TauucT, Soc. Jesu Martyr, p. 30: quoted by Tuknuull 
(p. XV.). 


Thus Haming witli the very ' fire' of the dauntless 
Founder, Southwell was ' ordained Priest' in tlie sum- 
mer of 1584, and being appointed to the Mission to Eng- 
land, proceeded to his native country. He left Eome on 
8th May 1586.^ He had earnestly sought the 'perilous' 
commission, as appears from a letter to the General dated 
20th February 1585, ' wherein his future martyrdom 
seems rather to have been anticipated, than merely re- 
ferred to as a simple possibility.'2 Another letter from 
Porto, written on 5th July 1586, while on his way to 
England, breathes the yearning ' haste' of The Lord as 
He went up for the last time to Jerusalem. Even in 
the quaint old Latin these ' Epistolaj' pulsate and throb 
with emotion. I do not envy the Reader who can rise 
with dry eyes from Father More's ' History' which con- 
tains them.2 

We get passing glimpses of our Southwell in the 
Life of Father John Gerard, published only recently 
in the following very weighty and remarkable book : ' The 
Condition of Catholics under James L Father Gerard's 
Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot. Edited, with his Life, 
by John Morris, Priest of the Society of Jesus. 1871. 
(8vo, Longmans).' I know not that I can do better than 
at this point glean these notices. So far as I can make 
out, the first belongs to 1588, and thus runs : ' On my 
arrival in London, by the help of certain Catholics, I dis- 
covered Father Henry Garnett, who was then Superior. 

• Bp. Challoner (as before) inadvertently assigns the depar- 
ture to 1584 (p. 324). It is plain by the Letters in More that 
it was not until 158(;, as Dr. Oliver states (p. 194). 

■■^ TUKNDULL, p. XVi. 

^ See pp. 182-183, for these Letters. 


Besides him, the only others of our Society then in Eng- 
land were Father Edmund Weston, confined at Wisbech 
(who, had he been at large, would have been Superior), i^a- 
tlter Robert Soutlnvell, and us two new-comers.'^ Again : 
' My companion. Father Ouldcorne, had already ar- 
rived, so the Superior was rather anxious on my account, 
as nothing had been heard of me ; but yet for that very 
reason hopes were entertained of my safety. It was with 
exceeding joy on both sides that we met at last. I stayed 
some time with the Fathers, and we held frequent con- 
sultations as to our future proceedings. The good Su- 
pei'ior gave us excellent instructions as to the method of 
bel2)ing and gaining souls, as did also Father Southwell, 
tvho much excelled in that art, being at once pnalent, pious, 
meek, and exceedingly winning!'^ Once more : * Next 
morning [after account of a meeting in Worcestershire], 
about five o'clock, when Father Southwell was beginning 
Mass, and the others and myself were at meditation, I 
heard a bustle at the house-door. Directly after, I heard 
cries and oaths poured forth against the servant for re- 
fusing admittance. The fact was, that four Priest- 
hunters, or pursuivants, as they are called, with drawn 
swords were trying to break down the door and force 
an entrance. The faithful servant withstood them, other- 
wise we should have been all made prisoners. But by 
this time Father Southwell had heard the uproar, and 
guessing what it meant, had at once taken off his vest- 
ments and stripped the altar ; while we strove to seek out 
everything belonging to us, so that there might be no- 
thing found to betray the presence of a Priest. . . . Hav- 

' Pji. xxiv.-v. • - Ibid. p. xxv. 


ing thus escaped the day's danger, Father Southwell and 
I set off the next day together, as we had come.'^ Far- 
ther: In the 'journeying' of the Priests there was per- 
petual danger of betrayal in their intercourse with the 
' gentry.' One half-pathetic half-comic Incident is told 
of a ' gentleman' who ' suspected' the Father. But he 
observes, ' after a day or so he quite abandoned all mis- 
trust, as I spoke of hunting and falconry with all the 
details that none but a practised person could command. '^ 
He then adds : ' For many make sad blunders in at- 
tempting this, as Father Southvell, who was afterwards 
my companion in many journeys, was wont to complain. 
He frequently got me to instruct him in the technical 
terms of sport, and used to complain of his bad memory 
for such things ; for on many occasions when he fell in 
with Protestant gentlemen, he found it necessary to 
speak of these matters, which are the sole topics of their 
conversation, save when they talk obscenity or break out 
into blasphemies and abuse of the Saints or the Catholic 

These incidental Notices verify at once the hazard of 
the time for Priests in England and the ' spiritual' cha- ' 
racter of the work prosecuted by our Worthy. Every 
other mention of him is in accord with this. It is re- 
membered that he ' sought out' the woman — his nurse — 
who had rescued him in his infancy from the ' gipsy' with 
a view to her conversion ;* while the long, intense, wist- 
ful, most eloquent and beautiful Letters to his Father 

' Ibid. pp. xxxix.-xl. _ - Ibid. p. xxiii. 

' Ibid. pp. xxiii. -iv. 

* Mori Hist. Prov. Angl. Soc. Jesu, p. 172. 


and Brother remain as evidences of the ' one thing' cared 
for by him.i 

During his Mission in England he had always a ' re- 
fuge' and home in London in the house of Anne, (Jountess 
of Arundel, whose husband, Philip Howard, Earl of 
Arundel, was imprisoned in the Tower and died there, 
* the noblest victim to the jealous and suspicious tyranny 
of Elizabeth, non sine veneni suspicione, as his epitaph 
still testifies.'- He and his companion had gone in the 
outset to William third Lord Vaux of Harrowden, resi- 
dent in then suburban Hackney. But after a few months, 
when the Confessor of the Countess of Arundel died, 
Southwell was appointed her domestic chaplain and con- 
fessor. It was while in this noble Family that he com- 
posed for the Earl's use his ' Consolation for Catholics' 
— of which more hereafter. 

If the phrase ' Reign of Terror' is historically used 
of that in France called ' Red,' an examination of the 
Facts — not merely as told by Lingard, but as being in 
our day revealed in the Calendars of the Period and in 
such a book as Morris's ' Condition of the Catholics' — 

' See on this Letter in tlie second part of this Memorial-In- 

- Morris's ' Condition of Catholics,' as before, p. Ivii. It is 
inipossihle to over-rate the permanent historic worth of this 
Work, nor the painstaking and thoroughness of the editing. 
We may not agi'ee in some of the verdicts, must see things dif- 
ferently o' times : hut none will deny the weight and value of 
the hook as a contribiition to the ecclesiastico-historico litera- 
ture of England. Might I suggest to Father Mokkis to explore 
the Mss. at Kome for notices of English Catholics undoubtedly 
lying there utterly neglected? I and all who have to do with 
our early Literature long for daylight being introduced into the 
masses of correspondence buried in the great Libraries of Rome. 


shows a ' White' ' Reign of Terror' in England for Ca- 
tholics. It was a CRIME to be a Catholic : it was proof 
of high-treason to be a Priest : it was to invite ' hunt- 
ing' as of a wild-beast to be a Jesuit. Granted that in 
our Southwell's years ir)88 is included, and that the 
shadow of the coming of The Armada lay across Eng- 
land from the very moment of his arrival. Granted that, 
in the teeth of their instructions, there were Priests and 
members of the Society of Jesus who deemed they did 
God service by * plotting' for Restoration of the ' old 
Faith and Worship' after a worldly sort. Granted that 
politically and civilly the Nation was in a sense in the 
throes of since-achieved liberties. Granted that Mary all 
too sadly, even tremendously, earned her irrevocable epi- 
thet of ' Bloody.' Granted that the very mysticism, not 
to say mystery, of the ' higher' sovereignty claimed for 
him who wore the tiara, acted as darkness does with 
sounds the most innocent. Granted nearly all that Pro- 
testantism claims in its Apology as a Defence, it must 
be regarded as a stigma on the statesmanship and a stain 
on the Christianity of the ' Reformed' Church of England, 
as well as a sorrow to all right-minded and right-hearted, 
that the ' convictions' of those who could not in conscience 
' change' at the bidding of Henry VIII. or Elizabeth or 
James were not respected ; that ' opinion,' or, if you will, 
' error,' was put down (or attempted to be put down) by 
force, and that the headsmaii's axe and hangman's rope 
were the only instrumentalities thought of. The State 
Trials remain to bring a blush to every lover of his coun- 
try for the brutal and ' hard' mockery of justice in the 
highest Courts of Law whenever a ' Papist' was con- 
cerned — as later with the Puritans and Nonconformists. 



Bp Challoner has translated two Letters of our 
Southwell from the 'History of the Persecutions in 
England,' by Didacus Yepes, Bishop of Tarragona ; and 
I avail myself of them here, as follows : 

The First Letter. 

1. ' As yet we are alive and well, being unworthy, 
it seems, of prisons. We have oftener sent, than re- 
ceived, letters from your parts, tho' they are not sent 
without difficulty; and some, we know, have been lost. 

2. ' The condition of Catholic recusants here is the 
sameas usual, deplorable and full of fears and dangers, 
more especially since our adversaries have look'd for 
wars. As many of ours as are in chains, rejoice, and 
are comforted in their prisons; and they that are at 
liberty set not their hearts upon it, nor expect it to be 
of long continuance. All, by the great goodness and 
mercy of God, arm themselves to suffer any thing that 
can come, how hard soever it may be, as it shall please 
our Lord ; for Whose greater glory, and the salvation of 
their souls, they are more concerned than for any tem- 
poral losses. 

3. ' A little while ago, they apprehended two priests, 
who have suffered such cruel usages in the prison of 
Bridewell, as can scarce be believ'd. What was given 
them to eat, was so little in quantity, and, withal, so 
filthy and nauseous, that the very sight of it was enough 
to turn their stomachs. The labours to which they 
obho-ed them were continual and immoderate ; and no 
lessln sickness than in health ; for, with hard blows and 
stripes, they forced them to accomplish their task, how 


weak soever they were. Their beds were dirty straw, 
and their prison most filthy. 

4. ' Some are there hung up, for whole days, by the 
hands, in such manner that they can but just touch the 
ground with the tips of their toes. In fine, they that 
are kept in that prison, truly live in lacic miserke et 
in luto feeds (Psalm xxxix.). This Purgatory we are 
looking for every hour, in which Topliffe and Young, 
the two executioners of the Catholics, exercise all kinds 
of torments. But come what pleaseth God, we hope we 
shall be able to bear all in Him that strengthens us. 
In the mean time, we pray that they may be put to 
confusion who work iniquity : and that the Lord may 
speak peace to His people (Psalm xxiv. and Ixxxiv.), 
that, as the royal prophet says. His glory may dwell 
in our Land. I most humbly recommend myself to the 
holy sacrifices of your reverence and of all our friends. 
January 16, 1590.' 

The Second Letter. 

1. 'We have written many letters, but, it seems, 
few have come to your hands. We sail in the midst of 
these stormy waves, with no small danger ; from which, 
nevertheless, it has pleased our Lord hitherto to de- 
liver us. 

2. * We have altogether, with much comfort, renew'd 
the vows of the Society, according to our custom spend- 
ing some days in exhortations and spiritual conferences. 
Aperuimus ora, et attraximus spiritum. It seems to 
me that I see the beginnings of a religious Ufe set on 
foot in England, of which we now sow the seeds with 


tears, that others hereafter may, with joy, carry in the 
sheaves to the heavenly granaries. 

3. ' We have sung the canticles of the Lord in a 
strange land, and, in this desert, we have suck'd honey 
from the rock, and oil from the hard stone. But these 
our joys ended in sorrow, and sudden fears dispers'd us 
into different places : but, in fine, we were more afraid 
than hurt, for we all escaped. I, with another of ours, 
seeking to avoid Scylla, had like to have fallen into 
Charybdis ; but, by the mercy of God, we passed be- 
twixt them both, without being shipwreck'd, and are 
now sailing in a safe harbour. 

4. ' In another of mine I gave an account of the 
late martyrdoms of Mr. Bayles and of Mr. Horner, and 
of the edification which the people received from their 
holy ends. With such dews as these the Church is 
water'd, %it in stillicidiis hujusmodi hetetur germmans 
(Ps. Ixiv.). We also look for the time (if we are not un- 
worthy of so great a glory) when our day (like that of 
the hired servant) shall come. In the mean while I re- 
commend myself very much to your reverence's prayers, 
that the Father of Lights may enlighten us, and con- 
firm us with His principal Spirit. Given March 8, 1590.' 

These Letters are only two out of hundreds of the 
like ; and I for one deplore that one so gentle and lov- 
able as Father Southwell had his heart thus wrung. 
But worse than ' fear' and haunting ' suspicion' inevit- 
ably came. For about six years our Worthy laboured 
with consuming devotedn^ss and success, when his Mis- 
sion was as in a moment ended by that old peril of St. 
Paul, '■/(tlse brethren,' in \i)'.)2. The circumstances are as 


follows, from Turnbui.l, verified by the authorities al- 
ready cited. ' There was resident at Uxendon [Woxin- 
don], near Harrow-on- the- Hill, in Middlesex, a Catholic 
family of the name of Bellamy, whom [which?] Southwell 
was in the habit of visiting and providing with rehgious 
instruction when he exchanged his ordinary [ordinarily ?] 
close confinement for a purer atmosphere. One of the 
daughters, Ann, had in her early youth exhibited marks of 
the most vivid and unshakable piety ; but having been 
committed to the Gatehouse of Westminster, her faith 
gradually departed, and along with it her virtue. For, 
having formed an intrigue with the keeper of the prison, 
she subsequently married him, and by this step forfeited 
all claim which she had by law or favour upon her father. 
In order, therefore, to obtain some fortune, she resolved 
to take advantage of the act of 27 Elizabeth, which made 
the harbouring of a priest treason, with confiscation of the 
offender's goods. Accordingly she sent a messenger to 
Southwell, urging him to meet her on a certain day and 
hour at her father's house, whither he, either in ignor- 
ance of what had happened, or under the impression that 
she sought his spiritual assistance through motives of 
penitence, went at the appointed time. In the mean 
while having apprised her husband of this, as also of 
the place of concealment in her father's house and the 
mode of access, he conveyed the information to Top- 
CLiFFE, an implacable persecutor and denouncer of the 
Catholics, who, with a band of his satellites, surrounded 
the premises, broke open the house, arrested his Rever- 
ence, and carried him off in open day, exposed to the gaze 
of the populace. '1 

' Pp. xxii.-xxv. 


Perhaps this account must be read awi gravo salis 
in so far as Ann Bellamy is concerned, seeing that, in 
a Letter of the justly-named ' bloodhound' Topcliffe, 
he boasts of the seizure of Southwell, and the whole 
thing, as his own act, adding, with a penetration we at 
this later day must acknowledge : ' It may please your 
Majesty to consider, I never did take so weiglity a man, 
if he be rightly considered.' The whole faw^ning, cruel, 
abominable Letter appears in STRvrE.i Jqhn Danyell 
also claimed ' merit' in the same ' arrest. '2 

Carried by Topcliffe to Topcliffe's own dwelling, 
he was there during a few weeks ' tortured' ten times 
with such pitiless severity, that the unhappy prisoner 
complaining of it to his judges, declared that death 
should have been preferable. Nor did the ' tortures' end 
when he was transferred to the Gatehouse and the Tower, 
the former kept by the husband of the she- Judas who 
had ' betrayed' him. How he was ' agonised' is simply 
and affectingly told by Tanner and by More. Even 
Cecil admitted the * torture' of him to have reached 
' thirteen times.'^ There must have been pauses in the 
cruelty, though not an hour's release in the imprison- 
ment ; for his Poems bear hitherto unrecognised traces 
of having been composed in (probably) the Tower, and 
subsequent to the putting him ' to the rack' and kindred 
atrocities that are not to be named. Let us turn to these 
undoubted reminiscences of his prison-experiences of the 

1 Annals of the Church and State, vol. iv. p. 9 (edit, folio, 

2 TuENBULL, pp. xxvi.-vii., where a Letter from Danyell is 
given from the State-Paper Office : Domestic, No. 200. 

3 Cf. More, as before, p. 193. 



dolorous kind named. First of all, in ' Mary Magdalen's 
Complaint at Christ's Death,' we read, 

' Sith my life from life is parted, 
Death, come take thy portion ; 
Who survives tohen life is murdred, 
Lives by mere extortion.^ (p. 62.) 

The simile is somewhat forced, but ' extortion' is more 
than a rhyme-word with ' portion.' It is a synonym for 
' racking' or ' tormenting ;' and, alas, it was well, or ra- 
ther, wretchedly known to him that one rendered sense- 
less through violence became conscious again on renewal 
of torture. Thus it was natural to him to represent Mary 
as saying that in her surviving when Christ her life had 
been murdered, her sense of Ufe was only due to the 
rackings and torments of her grief. Prisoner in the 
Tower, under the circumstances he did indeed ' couche 
his hfe in deathe's abode.' 

But deeper and more painfully realistic still are his 
' Life is but Losse' (pp. 81-3) and ' I die alive' (p. 184). 
Let the Reader at once turn to these unutterably tender 
and pathetic pieces, and slowly, and I doubt not with 
mist of tears, read them. Take meanwhile these lines 
in the former : 

' By force I live, in will I wish to dye ;' 

and this complete stanza (iv.) : 

' Come, cruell death, why lingi-est thou so longe ? 

What doth withould thy dynte from f atall stroke ? 
Nowe prest I am, alas ! thou dost me wi-onge. 

To lett me live, more anger to provoke : 
Thy right is had when thou hast stopt my breathe. 
Why shouldst thoue stay to worke my doohle deathe?' 

Similar is the yearning, the ' panting,' the ' sighing of the 


prisoner,' that God hears, the hunger for the benignant 
release of Death, in ' I dye Alive ;' and there are like 
touches in ' What joy to live' (pp. 85-6). Surely, too, 
the solace of Sleep's sweet forgetfulness takes new soft- 
ness from the recollection of his own prison-sleep, in ' St. 
Peter's Complaint,' thus : 

' Sleepe, Death's allye, obliuion of teares, 
Silence of passion, balme of angry sore, 
Suspence of loues, securitie of feares, 
Wrath's lenitiue, heart's ease, storme's calmest shore, 
Sense's and sonle's repriuall from all cumbers, 
Benumning sense of ill with quiet slumbers.' (St. cxxi.) 

It gives a new and strange interest to these Poems thus to 
find these erewhile overlooked autobiographic experiences 
worked into them. Their bearing on the inevitableness 
of his poetic gift I shall speak of onwards. 

Transferred to a dungeon in the Tower ' so noisome 
and filthy, that when he was brought out at the end of 
the month to be examin'd, his cloaths were quite cover'd 
with vermin,' his Father— and one is grateful to know 
that he was worthy of his son and of the Letter ad- 
dressed to him — 'presented a Petition to the Queen, 
humbly begging " That if his son had committed any- 
thing for which, by the laws, he had deserved death, he 
might suffer death ; if not, as he was a gentleman, he 
hoped her Majesty would be pleased to order that he 
should be treated as a gentleman, and not be confined 
any longer to that filthy hole." 'i It argued conscious 
innocence politically, and absolute confidence in the ' ij 
not; so to address Elizabeth. It argued too recognition 
in the highest quarters of the justice of the plea, that 

' Challoner, as before, p. 325. 


' the Queen was pleased to have regard to this Petition, 
and to order Mr. Southwell a better lodging ; and to give 
leave to his father to supply him with cloaths and other 
necessaries ; and amongst the rest, with the books which 
he ask'd for, which were only the Holy Bible, and the 
works of St. Bernard. '1 The selection of books, the Book 
of Books and the Father of the Fathers for a Poet, is 
very noteworthy : and through all his weary imprison- 
ment ' spiritual things,' not civil or earthly, were his 
theme when he 'discoursed' to his sister Mary (Mrs. 
Bannister), or others permitted occasionally to visit him. 
Bishop Challoner tells unexaggeratedly and simply 
the story of the ' beginning of the end,' and ' the Trial,' 
and the ' end,' deriving the ' Trial' from a ms. in Latin 
preserved in the Archives of the English College at St. 
Omer's. I have now to submit these successively: first, 
the 'beginning of the end,' as follows: 

' He was kept in prison three years ; and, at ten 
several times, was most cruelly rack'd, till, at length, a 
resolution was taken on a sudden in the Council to have 
him executed. Some days before his execution he was 
removed from the Tower to Newgate, and there put 
down into the hole call'd Limho ; from whence he was 
brought out to suffer, on account of his priesthood, the 
21st of February 1594-5, having been condemn'd but 
the day before. Care was taken not to let the people 
know before-hand the day he was to die, to hinder their 
concourse on that occasion ; and a famous highwayman 
was ordered to be executed at the same time, in another 
place, to divert the crowd from the sight of the last 

' Challoner, p. 325. 


conflict of the servant of Christ : but these precautions 
avail'd nothing, great numbers, and amongst them many 
persons of distinction, flock'd to Tjburn to be witnesses 
of his glorious martyrdom. Hither Mr. Southwell was 
drawn on a sled thro' the streets; and when he was come 
to the place, getting up into the cart, he made the sign 
of the Cross in the best manner that he could, his hands 
being pinion'd, and began to speak to the people those 
words of the Apostle (Rom. xiv.). Whether we live, we 
live to the Lord, or whether we die, we die to the Lord: 
therefore, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. 
Here the sheriff would have interrupted him ; but he 
begged leave that he might go on, assuring him, that 
he would utter nothing that should give offence. Then 
he spoke as follows : " I am come to this place to finish 
my course, and to pass out of this miserable life ; and I 
beg of my Lord Jesus Christ, in whose most precious 
Passion and Blood I place my hope of salvation, that 
He would have mercy on my soul. I confess I am a 
Catholic priest of the holy Roman Church, and a reli- 
gious man of the Society of Jesus ; on which account I 
owe eternal thanks and praises to my God and Saviour." 
Here he was interrupted by a minister telling him, that 
if he understood what he had said in the sense of the 
Council of Trent, it was damnable doctrine. But the 
minister was silenc'd by the standers by, and Mr. South- 
well went on saying, " Sir, I beg of you not to be trou- 
blesome to me for this short time that I have to live : I 
am a Catholic, and in whatever manner you may please 
to interpret my words, I hope for salvation by the merits 
of our Lord Jesus Christ. And as to the Queen, I never 
attempted, nor contrived, or imagined any evil against 



her ; but have always prayed for her to our Lord ; and 
for this short time of my life still pray, that, in His in- 
finite mercy. He would be pleased to give her all such 
gifts and graces which He sees, in His divine wisdom, 
to be most expedient for the welfare, both of her soul 
and body, in this hfe and in the next. I recommend, 
in like manner, to the same mercy of God, my poor 
country, and I implore the divine bounty to favour it 
with His hght, and the knowledge of His truth, to the 
greater advancement of the salvation of souls, and the 
eternal glory of His divine majesty. In fine, I beg of 
the almighty and everlasting God, that this my death 
may be for my own and for my country's good, and the 
comfort of the Catholics my brethren." 

' Having finished these words, and looking for the 
cart to be immediately drove away, he again blessed 
himself, and, with his eyes rais'd up to heaven, repeated, 
with great calmness of mind and countenance, those 
words of the Psalmist, in manus tuas, &c., " into Thy 
hands, Lord, I commend my spirit," with other short 
ejaculations, till the cart was drawn off. The unskilful 
hangman had not apply'd the noose of the rope to the 
proper place, so that he several times made the sign of 
the Cross whilst he was hanging, and was some time 
before he was strangled ; which some perceiving, drew 
him by the legs to put an end to his pain ; and when 
the executioner was for cutting the rope, before he was 
dead, the gentlemen and people that were present cried 
out three several times, " Hold, hold !" for the behaviour 
of the servant of God was so edifying in these his last 
moments, that even the Protestants who were present 
at the execution were much affected with the sight. 


After he was dead he was cut down, bowelled, and quar- 
tered.' 1 

It is added by Turnbull : ' Lord Mountjoy (Charles 
Blount, eighth Baron Mountjoy), who happened to be 
present, was so struck by the martyr's constancy, that he 
exclaimed, " May my soul be with this man's !" and he 
assisted in restraining those who would have cut the rope 
while he was still in life' (pp. xxxi.-ii.). 

Now comes the St. Omer's ms. : 

' After Father Southwell had been kept close pri- 
soner for three years in the Tower, he sent an epistle to 
Cecil, Lord Treasurer, humbly entreating his lordship, 
that he might either be brought upon his trial, to ans- 
wer for himself, or at least, that his friends might have 
leave to come and see him. The Treasurer answered, 
that if he was in so much haste to be hanged, he should 
quickly have his desire. Shortly after this, orders were 
given, that he should be removed from the Tower to 
Newgate; where he was put down into the dungeon 
call'd Limho, and there kept for three days. 

' On the 2 2d of Febrnary, without any previous warn- 
ing to prepare for his trial, he was taken out of his dark 
lodging and hurried to Westminster, to hold up his 
hand there at the bar. The first news of this step to- 
wards his martyrdom fill'd his heart with a joy which 
he could not conceal. The judges before whom he was 
to appear were Lord Chief Justice Popham, Justice 
Owen, Baron Evans, and Sergeant Daniel. As soon as 
Father Southwell was brought in, the Lord Chief Jus- 
tice made a long and vehement speech against the Jesuits 
' Challoncr, pp. 825-27. 



and seminary priests, as the authors and contrivers of all 
the plots and treasons which he pretended had been 
hatched during that reign. Then was read the bill of 
indictment against Father Southwell, drawn up by Cook, 
the Queen's solicitor, to this effect : 

" Middlesex. 

" The jury present on the part of our sovereign lady 
the Queen, that Robert Southwell, late of London, clerk, 
born within this kingdom of England ; to wit, since the 
Feast of St. John Baptist, in the first year of the reign 
of her Majesty; and before the 1st day of May, in the 
thirty-second year of the reign of our lady the Queen 
aforesaid, made and ordained priest by authority derived 
and pretended from the See of Eome ; not having the 
fear of God before his eyes, and slightmg the laws and 
statutes of this realm of England, without any regard to 
the penalty therein contained, on the 20th day of June, 
the thirty-fourth year of the reign of our lady the Queen, 
at Uxenden, in the county of Middlesex, traiterously, 
and as a false traitor to our said lady the Queen, was 
and remained, contrary to the form of the statute in 
such case set forth and provided, and contrary to the 
peace of our said lady the Queen, her crown and dig- 

' The grand jury having found the bill. Father South- 
well was ordered to come up to the bar: he readily 
obeyed, and bowing down his head, made a low rever- 
ence to his judges ; then modestly held up his hand ac- 
cording to custom; and being ask'd, whether he was 
guilty, or not guilty 1 he answered : I confess that I was 
born in England, a subject to the Queen's majesty ; and 


that by authority derived from God, I have been pro- 
moted to the sacred order of priesthood in the Roman 
Church ; for which I return most hearty thanks to His 
divine Majesty. I confess also, that I was at Uxenden 
in Middlesex at that time ; when, being sent for thither 
by trick and deceit, I fell into your hands, as it is well 
known : but that I never entertained any designs or 
plots against the Queen or kingdom, I call God to wit- 
ness, the revenger of perjury ; neither had I any other 
design in returning home to my native country, than to 
administer the sacraments, according to the rite of the 
Catholic Church, to such as desired them. 

' Here the judge interrupted him, and told him that 
he was to let all that alone, and plead directly guilty, or 
not guilty. Upon which he said, he was not guilty of 
any treason whatsoever. And being asked by whom he 
would be tried ? he said, By God and by you. The judge 
told him he was to answer. By God and his country ; 
which, at first, he refused, alledging that the laws of 
his country were disagreeable to the law of God ; and 
that he was unwilling those poor harmless men of the 
jury, whom they obliged to represent the country, should 
have any share in their guilt, or any hand in his death. 
But, said he, if thro' your iniquity it must be so, and I 
cannot help it, be it as you will, I am ready to be judged 
by God and my country. When the twelve were to be 
sworn, he challenged none of them, saying, that they 
were all equally strangers to him, and therefore charity 
did not allow him to except against any one of them 
more than another. 

' The jury being sworn, Mr. Cook began to prove 
the heads of the indictment, that Mr. Southwell was an 


Englishman, and a priest, by his own confession; and 
that his being so young was a demonstration that he 
was made priest since the time mentioned in the statute, 
&c. The judge ask'd him how old he was ? He replied, 
that he was about the same age as our Saviour, viz. 33. 
Topliffe, who was present, took occasion from this ans- 
wer to charge him with insupportable pride, in com- 
paring himself to our Saviour. But Father Southwell 
refuted the calumny, confessing himself to be a worm 
of the earth, and the work and creature of Christ his 
Maker. In fine, after Mr. Cook had declaim'd, as long 
as he thought fit, against the servant of Christ, and 
Topliffe and Lord Chief Justice Popham had loaded 
him with reproaches and injuries, to which Father 
Southwell opposed a Christian constancy and modesty, 
the jury went aside to consult about the verdict, and, a 
short time after, brought him in guilty. He was asked, 
if he had any thing more to say for himself, why sent- 
ence should not be pronounced against him ? He said, 
nothing ; but from my heart I beg of Almighty God to 
forgive all who have been any ways accessory to my 
death. The judge (Popham) exhorted him to provide 
for the welfare of his soul whilst he had time. He 
thank'd him for this show of good-will ; saying, that he 
had long since provided for that, and was conscious to 
himself of his own innocence. The judge having pro- 
nounced sentence according to the usual form. Father 
Southwell made a very low bow, returning him most 
hearty thanks, as for an unspeakable favour. The judge 
offered him the help of a minister to prepare him to die. 
Father Southwell desired he would not trouble him upon 
that head ; that the grace of God would be more than 


sufficient for him. And so, being sent back to Newgate, 
thro' the streets, lined with people, he discovered, all the 
way, the overflowing joy of his heart, in his eyes, in his 
whole countenance, and in every gesture and motion of 
his body. He was again put down into Limbo, at his 
return to Newgate, where he spent the following night, 
the last of his life, in prayer, full of the thoughts of the 
journey he was to take the next day, thro' the gate of 
martyrdom, into a happy eternity ; to enjoy for ever the 
sovereign Object of his love. The next morning early, 
he was called out to the combat, and, as we have seen 
above, gained a glorious victory. 

' Mr. Southwell's execution is mentioned by Mr. 
Stow in his Chronicle : "February 20 (1594-5), says 
the historian, Southwell, a Jesuit, that long time had 
lain prisoner in the Tower of London, was arraigned at 
the King's-Bench bar. He was condemned, and on the 
next morning drawn from Newgate to Tyburn, and there 
hanged, bowelled, and quartered. 'i 

It is very pitiful to have the great name of Coke — 
for the ' Cook' of the Manuscript was he — thus intro- 
duced. Anything more relentless and ingeniously and 
wickedly perverse than the * meaning' put into South- 
well's allusion to the age of The Lord as (nearly) 
equal to his own is inconceivable. To me it is an in- 
finitely touching and unconscious revelation of how his 
whole soul was filled with thoughts of the supreme Life, 
so that, as perfume from a wind-shaken flower, the 
Christ-linked remembrance of his age could not but be 

1 Challoner, pp. 330-34. 


From Morris's ' Condition of the Catholics' (as be- 
fore) we learn that there were ' conversations' on ' equi- 
vocation' and kindred matters during the examinations, 
and that one ' in authority' sought to break down the 
' firmness' of another Catholic prisoner by a false as 
malignant assertion that Southwell had ' conformed' and 
sent for a Protestant 'minister.'^ I care not to dwell 
any longer on this judicial Murder. I pronounce it to 
be such ; and it is the sorrow and shame of our com- 
mon human nature and Christianity that ' both sides' 
have like blood- wet pages. I must regard our Worthy 
as a 'martyr' in the deepest and grandest sense — a 
* good man and full of the Holy Ghost.'" I should 

' As before, pp. cexiv. ccxviii. and Ixvii. 

2 I add the following as a foot-note, from the Transactions 
of the London and Middlesex Archaeological Society (vol. i. pp. 
293-4) : ' Robert Southwell, y^ Jesuit priest, was also discovered 
and arrested at Uxenden, and it was admitted by him that he 
had been often in Bellamy's house ; and his friend John Gerard, 
another Jesuit, defended y« denial of y^ fact by one of y^ wit- 
nesses, as being a denial authorised by y^ example of y^ Saviour.' 

In June 1592 it was ordered, ' That Mr. Justice Young, or 
sume other lyke commissioner, do apprehend Richard Bellamy 
of Oxenden, in y^ parryshe of Harrow on y'' Hyll, and his 
wyfFe, and the tow sonnes and ther tow daughters, in whose 
house father Southwell, alias Mr. Cotton, was taken by Mr. 
Toplay [Topcliflfe?] a comyssyner, andwher a noumber of other 
preests have bene recevyd and harberd, as well when Southwell 
bathe been ther as when Mr. Barnes, alias Stranudge, al's Hyud, 
al's Wingfeld, bathe beene ther a sojorner in Bellamy's house. 
And they to bee comytted to severall prysons : Bellamy and his 
wj'fe to y^ Gaythouse, and ther tow doughters to y^ Clynck, and 
ther tow soones to St. Katheryn's, and to be axamyned straytly 
for y« weighty service of y^ Q^ Ma*y.' The ' alias Cotton' is a new 
fact in Southwell's biogi-aphy. Turnbull has given a genea- 
logical table of the Bellamys, and related papers from the State- 
Paper Office fpp. Ixiv.-vi.) : sufficient to have been once printed. 


blush for my Protestantism, if I did not hold in honour, 
yea reverence, his stainless and beautiful memory, all 
the more that he was on the ' losing side,' none the less 
that beliefs and forms and observances that were dear to 
him are errors, and more, to me : 

Through this desert, day by day, 
Wandered not his steps astray, 
Treading still the royal way. 

Paradiaus Animce. 

Pass we now to 

II. The Wiutinos. 

It is to be lamented that there is no authentic por- 
trait of Southwell known. Dr. Hannah of Brighton in- 
deed has sent me an early etching-like engraving, which, 
from the number ' 89' in the right-hand corner, seems 
to have formed one of a series. Beneath is inscribed 
' P. Kobertvs Sovthvell, Soc. lesu, Londini, pro Cath. 
fide suspensus et sectus 3. mar. 1595' (the date erro- 
neous). Above is a cherub reaching out a wreath and 
palm : round the neck is ' the rope,' and in the breast a 
sword with blood coming forth in great drops. The face 
is a conventional monkish one, self- evidently no Portrait. 
We could better have spared other portraits that have 
come down for his. I very much mistake if a genuine 
Portrait of him would not have shown an intellectual, 
etherealised Face, thin and worn no doubt, but ensouled. 
One likes to go to the Writings of a man from a study 
of his Face. This we are not privileged to do here ; but 
I have told his Life-story ill from the extant authorities, 
if my Eeaders have not a 'j:)re;'wf72ce' in his favour — 
using my Scottish archaic phrase — if his character have 


not won an extrinsic interest and transfiguration for his 
books. His Prose I can only very briefly notice ; nor 
indeed is it their literary value that has kept them 
'quick' and potential to this day. It was not for a 
literary object they were composed, neither as contri- 
buting to literature they were published. They were 
the outcome of the Author's own ' inner life' and sym- 
pathies with the sad, the unwary, the eager, the tempted, 
the doubting, the ' tried.' Hence it is, I take it, that 
there never has been a decade of years since their ori- 
ginal issue, that something bearing the name of South- 
well has not been in living circulation and prized by 
' weary' and sorrowful spirits. 

The Bibliographies (e. g. Hazlitt's) place at the head 
of his Writings ' A Supplication to Queen Elizabeth' 
(1593): but this was probably his father's Petition. I 
have failed to discover a copy. The next— really the first 

is ' An Epistle of Comfort to the Eeverend Preistes, 

and to the honourable, worshipful, and other of the lay 
sorte restrayned in durance for the Catholike faith. Im- 
printed at Paris [15931],' 8vo, 214 leaves: a copy in 
the British Museum. Following this was ' A Short 
Rule of Good Life: to direct the devout Christian in a 
regular and ordinary course, n.p. or d. 8vo: a copy in 
the Bodleian. Dr. Oliver (as before) has stated that 
these were all ' printed at his private press,' mentioned 
in our Memoir. But in such case the date of the ' Epistle 
of Comfort' usually filled in, viz. 1593, must be a mis- 
take, as Southwell from 1592 was a ' prisoner.' The 
imprint of Paris may have been a blind. Another edi- 
tion of this treatise— for it really is such— bears date 
'1G05' (in the Bodleian). Dodd (as before) gives the 


imprint of Doway to the ' Short Rule.' His ' Epistle 
to his Father to forsake the World' is also assigned to 
the ' private press,' and so must have been printed prior 
to 1592. I have not been able to trace an early copy. 
As we shall find, the Stonyhurst ms. copy of it is dated 
1589. The next published prose was the following: 
' The Triimiphs ouer Death : or A Consolatorie Epistle 
for afflicted minds, in the affects of dying friends. First 
written for the consolation of one : but nowe published for 
the generall good of all, hj R. S. the Authour of S.Peters 
ComjAaint, and Mceoniw his other Hijmnes. London, 
Printed by Valentine Simmes for lohn Busbie, and are to 
be solde at Nicholas Lings shop at the West end of 
Paules Church. 1596. (4to).' By the hberality of the 
authorities of Jesus College, Oxford, I have been allowed 
the leisurely use of their very fine copy of this excessively 
scarce book. There was a previous edition in 1595. 

John Trussell, author of ' Raptvs I Helente. The 
first Rape of faire Hellen. Done into a Poeme by I. T.' 
(1595), appears to have been Editor of the 'Triumphs.' 
The Epistle-dedicatory in verse to the Sackvilles we 
have already given in the preceding Memoir, and now 
the Verses in memoriam of Southwell by Trussell 
must here find successive place ; the former an acrostic, 
and neither, so far as I am aware, hitherto reprinted. 

I. [Of Southwell and his Book.] 

R Reade with regarde, what here with due regarde, 

O Our second Ciceronian Southwell sent : 

B By whose perswasiue pithy argument, 

E Ech well disposed eie may he preparde 

R Respectiuely their gi-iefe for friends decease 

T To moderate without all vaine excesse. 


S Sitli the woi'ke is worthie of your view, 
O Obtract not him which foi" your good it pend : 
V Vnkinde you are if you it reprehend, 
T That for jonr profit it presented you : 
H He pend, I publish this to pleasiu-e all, 
E Esteeme of both then, as we merite shall. 
W Way his workes woorth, accept of my goodwill, 
E Else is his labour lost, mine crost, both to no end : 
L Lest then you ill deserue what both intend, 
L Let my goodwill and small defects fulfill : 
He here his talent trebled doth present, 
I, my poore mite, yet both with good intent ; • 
Then take them kindly both, as we them ment. 

II. To THE Readek. 

Chancing to find with ^sope's cocke a stone, 

Whose worth was more than I knew how to prize ; 
And knowing if it should be kept vnknowne, 
'Twould many skathe, and pleasure few or none : 
I thought it best, the same in publike wise 
I['d] print to publish, that impartiall eyes 
Might, reading iudge, and iudging, praise the wight 
The which this Triumph ouer Death did wi'ite. 

And though the same he did at first compose 

For one's peculiar consolation, 
Yet will it be commodious vnto those. 
Which for some friend's losse,proue their owne selfe-foes: 

And by extreamitie of exclamation 

And theii- continuale lamentation 
Seeme to forget that they at length must tread 
The selfe same path which they did that are dead. 

But those as yet whom no friend's death doth crosse, 

May by example guyde their actions so, 
That when a tempest comes their barke to tosse, 
Then- passions shall not superate theii* losse : 
And eke this Treatise doth the Reader show, 
That we our breath to Death by duety owe, 
And thereby pi-ooues, much teares are spent in vaine, 
WTien teares can not recall the dead againe. 


Yet if 2)erhapi)es our late sprung Sectaries, 

Or, for a fashion, Bible-bearing hypocrites, 
Whose hoUowe hearts doe seeme most holy wise, 
Do, for the Author's sake, the worke desinse, 

I wish them weigh the worke, and not who writes : 
But they that leaue what most the soiile delights, 
Because the Preacher's no precisian, sure 
To reade what Soutkwi'll writ will not endure. 

But leaning them, since no perswades suffise 
To cause them reade, except the Spirit moue, 

I wish all other reade, but not despise 

This little Treatise : but if Momus' eies 

Espie Death's Triumph, it doth him behoue. 
This Writer, Worke, or me for to reprooue : 

But let this pitch-speecht mouth defile but one. 

Let that be me, let t' other two alone : 
For if ofience in either merite blame, 
The fault is mine, and let me reape the shame. 

loHN Teussell. 

Southwell's own prose address of ' The Aiithour to 
the Reader' is well-turned in phrase. A copy of the ' Tri- 
umphs,' including this Epistle, corrected in his own auto- 
graph, is preserved among the Stonyhurst mss., dated 
' The last of September 1591.' In any reprint this Manu- 
script will be found of much value. The date there given 
(1591) led us to place the 'Triumphs' before 'Marie 
Magdalen's Funerall Teares,' although the latter was in 
print one year earlier. This was his last published prose. 
The title-page is as follows — taken from the unique copy 
in the Bodleian : * Mary Magdalen's Funerall Teares. 
Jeremiee, c. 6, ver. 2G. Auctum unigeniti fac tibi plane- 
turn amartim. London, Printed for A. I. G. C. 1594' 
(8vo, 47 leaves). There were editions of the ' Funerall 
Teares' in 1602, 1607, 1609, 1630, &c. &c. 

Such were the printed and published Prose Writings 


of our Poet. Farther : Dolman, the late Catholic pub- 
lisher, is stated by Tuunbull to have had in his posses- 
sion an unpublished (and still so) ms. of his, entitled 'The 
Hundred Meditations of the Love of God,' with a Pre- 
face-Letter ' To the Right Honble and virtuous Lady, 
the Lady Beauchamp.' It must be the same that is quoted 
from by Walter. Besides these ' Hundred Meditations' 
among the Stonyhurst mss., exclusive of holographs of 
the already-named ' Triumphs over Death' and Epistle 
to his ' loving cosen,' prefixed to St. Peter's Complaint, 
with other Poems (as before), and of the Letter to his 
Father, and of the Poems, there are a variety of exceed- 
ingly characteristic ' weighty and powerful' productions, 
chiefly in Latin, and which I would here record. But 
with reference to the Letter to his Father it may be stated 
that it thus begins in the ms. : ' To the Worshipfull, his 
very good father, Mr. Rich. Sou. Esq", his dutifuU soon 
[^sic'] Rob. Sou. wisheth all happines ;' and ends, * may 
finde excuse of my boldnes, I will surcease. This 22 of 
October 1589, your most dutifull and lovinge sonne, R. S.' 
The date '1589' is important, and confirms our remark, 
that if printed at the ' private press' in his own house, it 
must have appeared sooner than the known earliest edi- 
tion, viz. 1593. The whole of these are included in the 
same Volume with the Poems, as described by us. 

The additional autograph pieces in Prose are on 
separate foldings of paper, and are these : ' Notes on 
Theology,' consisting of the usual scholastic-dogmatic 
discussions (in Latin). Next, ' Precationes,' as follow : 
' Ante orationem precatio,' 'Ante Missam precatio,' ' Ante 
studia precatio,' 'Ad omnia accommodata precatio,' 'An- 
tequam cum externis &c.,' and two others without head- 


ings. Next, ' Meditationes in Adventu' — both the Pi*ayers 
and Meditations being in Latin. Next, a ' Discourse on 
Mary Mandelyn,' and 'Alas, why doe I lament,' in Eng- 
lish prose, both extrinsically valuable from their relation 
to the published 'Mary Magdalen's Funerall Teares,' of 
which indeed I believe them to have been the first form. 
Finally, another Prayer on a separate bit of paper, and 
Notes or jottings for the poem of St. Peter's Complaint. 

Returning upon the Prose of Southwell, as thus 
for the first time fully and accurately placed before the 
Reader, I feel a difficulty in making representative quota- 
tions, seeing — as remarked in the outset — it is not for 
their literary but for their ' spiritual' worth we estimate 
them highly: while there is this additional element of 
difficulty, that the great body of the instruction and con- 
solation presented is plain, simple, unadorned, almost 
homely, and so unfurnished of those brilliancies that yield 
vivid and often untrue ' quotable bits.'' 

Nevertheless, it were probably to disappoint not to 
give something from the Prose — published and unpub- 

As we have seen, the earliest-dated prose of our 
Worthy is the Letter to his Father. This Letter is 
printed in extenso by Walter (as before), and from him 
as Appendix No. 1 by Turnbull. We have very much 
more valuable new materials, and hence have not thought 
of reprinting it ; but it is of rare interest in many ways, 
and won the fine praise of Arts Willmott. His father 
seems either to have been inclined to fall in with The Re- 
formation, being at least an absentee from Catholic ob- 
servances, or to have been ' gay' and ' of the world.' His 
marriage with a lady of the Court — formerly, we learn 


from More (as before), the instructress of Queen Eliza- 
beth in the Latin language — and his wealth led him 
among the highest in the Land. His son Robert 
yearned over him. Thus does he pave the way for counsel 
and admonition :^ ' I am not of so unnatural a kind, of 
so wild an education, or so unchristian a spirit, as not to 
remember the root out of which I branched, or to forget 
my secondary maker and author of my being. It is not 
the carelessness of a cold affection, nor the want of a due 
and reverent respect, that has made me such a stranger 
to my native home, and so backward in defraying the 
debt of a thankful mind, but only the iniquity of these 
days that maketh my presence perilous, and the discharge 
of my duties an occasion of danger. I was loth to inforce 
an unwilling courtesy upon any, or by seeming offici- 
ous to become offensive ; deeming it better to let time 
digest the fear that my return into the realm had bred in 
my kindred than abruptly to intrude myself, and to pur- 
chase their danger, whose good-will I so highly esteem. 
I never doubted but that the belief, which to all my 
friends by descent and pedigree is, in a manner, heredi- 
tary, framed in them a right persuasion of my present 
calling, not suffering them to measure their censures of 
me by the ugly terms and odious epithets wherewith 
heresy hath sought to discredit my functions, but rather 
by the reverence of so worthy a sacrament and the sacred 
usages of all former ages. Yet, because I might easily 
perceive by apparent conjectures that many were more 

' As most easily got at by Readers desh-ing to see the whole, 
I take my quotations from this Letter fromTuRNBULL, w-ithout 
ill tins instance going back on the old spelling. In Waltek it 
occupies pp. 106-125, and was taken from a ms. in the Bodleian. 



willing to hear of me than from me, and readier to praise 
than to use my endeavours, I have hitherto bridled my 
desire to see them by the care and jealousy of their safety ; 
and banishing myself from the scene of my cradle in my 
own country, I have lived like a foreigner, finding among 
strangers that which, in my nearest blood, I presumed 
not to seek' (pp. xliii.-iv.). Then follow most wistful 
and anxious arguments taking the form of entreaties: e.g. 
' Surely for mine own part, though I challenge not the 
prerogative of the best disposition, yet am I not of so 
harsh and churlish a humour, but that it is a continual 
corrective and cross unto me, that whereas my endea- 
vours have reclaimed many from the brink of perdition, 
I have been less able to employ them where they were 
most due ; and was barred from affording to my dearest 
friends that which hath been eagerly sought and bene- 
ficially obtained by mere strangers' (p. xlvi.). More pas- 
sionately : ' Who hath more interest in the grape than he 
who planted the vine ? who more right to the crop than 
he who sowed the corn 1 or where can the child owe so 
great service as to him to whom he is indebted for his 
very life and being % With young Tobias I have tra- 
velled far, and brought home a freight of spiritual sub- 
stance to enrich you, and medicinable receipts against 
your ghostly maladies. I have with Esau, after long toil 
in pursuing a long and painful chase, returned with the 
full prey you were wont to love ; desiring thereby to in- 
sure your blessing. I have in this general famine of 
all true and Christian food, with Joseph, prepared abund- 
ance of the bread of angels for the repast of your soul. 
And now my desire is that my drugs may cure you, my 
prey delight you, and my provisions feed you, by whom 



I have been cured, enlightened, and fed myself; that 
your courtesies may, in part, be countervailed, and my 
duty, in some sort, performed. Despise not, good Sire, 
the youth of your son, neither deem your God measureth 
His endowments by number of years. Hoary senses are 
often couched under youthful locks, and some are riper 
in the spring than others in the autumn of their age' 
(pp. xlvi.-vii.). That 'you ivere wont to love' from the 
old Story was exceedingly ingenious and is ingenuously 
put. There follow superabundant Scriptural defences of 
his * youth' as no bar to addressing his Father, neither 
his subordination as ' son' an argument for silence, nor 
' counsels' an accusation, as though his father were unin- 
structed in such matters. Again, very finely : ' The full 
of your spring-tide is now fallen, and the stream of your 
hfe waneth to a low ebb ; your tired bark beginneth to 
leak, and grateth oft upon the gravel of the grave ; there- 
fore it is high time for you to strike sail and put into 
harbour, lest, remaining in the scope of the winds and 
waves of this wicked time, some unexpected gust should 
dash you upon the rock of eternal ruin' (p. lix.). And 
so the ' sharp arrow' is at last sent home. ' Now there- 
fore, to join issue and to come to the principal drift of 
my discourse : most humbly and earnestly I am to be- 
seech you, that, both in respect of the honour of God, 
your duty to His Church, the comfort of your children, 
and the redress of your own soul, you would seriously 
consider the terms you stand on, and weigh yourself 
in a Christian balance, taking for your counterpoise the 
judgments of God. Take heed in time, that the word 
Thekel, written of old against Balthazar, and interpreted 
by young Daniel, be not verified in you ; remember the 


exposition, " you have been weighed in the balance and 
found wanting." Remember that you are in the balance, 
that the date of your pilgrimage is well-nigh expired, and 
that it now behoveth you to look forward to your country. 
Your strength languisheth, your senses become impaired, 
and your body droopeth, and on every side the ruinous 
cottage of your faint and feeble flesh threateneth a fall. 
Having so many harbingers of death to pre -admonish 
you of your end, how can you but prepare for so dread- 
ful a stranger ? The young may die quickly, but the 
old cannot live long. The young man's Ufe by casualty 
may be abridged ; but the old man's life can by no phy- 
sic be long augmented. And therefore, if green years 
must sometimes think of the grave, the thoughts of sere 
age should continually dwell on the same. The prero- 
gative of infancy is innocency ; of childhood, reverence ; 
of manhood, maturity ; and of age, wisdom ; and seeing 
that the chief property of wisdom is to be mindful of 
things past, careful of things present, and provident of 
things to come, use now the privilege of Nature's talent 
to the benefit of your soul, and show hereafter to be wise 
in well-doing, and watchful in foresight of future harms. 
To serve the world you are now unable, and though you 
were able, you have little wish to do so, seeing that it 
never gave you but an unhappy welcome, a hurtful enter- 
tainment, and now doth abandon you with an unfortunate 
farewell. You have long sowed in a field of flint, which 
could bring you nothing forth but a crop of cares and 
afflictions of spirit ; rewarding your labours with re- 
morse, and for your pains repaying you with eternal 
damages. It is now more than a seasonable time to alter 
your course of so unthriving a husbandry, and to enter 


into the field of God's Church' (pp. xlix.-li.). The se- 
quel is intensely, almost awfully in earnest in its calls for 
recovery — 'return to Rk Church' — and to 'consider' be-' 
fore it be ' too late ;' and he urges : ' I have expressed not 
only my own, but the earnest desire of your other chil- 
dren, whose humble wishes are here written with my pen. 
For it is a general grief that filleth all our hearts, whom 
it hath pleased God to shroud under His merciful wing, 
to see our dearest father, to whom both nature hath 
bound and your merits fastened our affection, dismem- 
bered from the body to which we are united, to be in 
hazard of a farther and more grievous separation' (p. Ix.). 

I know nothing comparable with the mingled affec- 
tion and prophet-like fidelity, the wise ' instruction, correc- 
tion, reproof,' the full rich scripturahaess and quamt ap- 
plications, the devoutness, the insistence, the pathos of 
this Letter. Even the noble Letter of the late Bishop of 
Exeter (Phillpotts) to Lord Chancellor Eldox on his 
deathbed— the gem of the ' Life' of Eldon by Twiss — 
looks chill and meagre beside it. A shorter Letter to 
his Brother (not named), similarly preserved, is of the 
same character, and of as urgent and eager intensity for 
* decision.' Here is one ' cry' out of it : 'I would I 
might send you the sacrifice of my dearest veins, to try 
whether nature could awake remorse, and prepare a way 
for grace's entrance.'^ 

The < Triumphs over Death' is a panegyric on the 
lady of the family of the Howards noticed in the Me- 
moir [Lady Mary Sackville]. It seeks to check over- 
grief, and in so doing lacks the gentleness, the softness 

' Walter, as before, p. 127 : Turnbull from Walter, 
p. Ixiv. 


of his other Letters, being severe to sternness in its re- 
pression. His ' character' of the ' fair lady' is drawn with 
the firm hnes of a Painter and the glow of a Poet. It 
may serve as an example of the elegance of his style, and 
so I adduce it here : ' She was by birth second to none 
but vnto the first in the realme ; yet she measured onely 
greatnesse by goodnes, making nobility but the mirrour 
of vertue, as able to shewe things worthie to be scene, as 
apte to draw many eies to beholde it ; shee suted her be- 
hauior to her birth, and enobled her birth with her piety, 
leaning her house more beholding to her for hauing hon- 
oured it with the glorie of her vertues, then she was to 
it for the titles of hir degree. She was high-minded in 
nothing but in aspiring to perfection and in the disdaine 
of vice ; in other things couering her greatnes with hu- 
militie among her inferiors, and showing it with curtesie 
among hir peeres. Of the carriage of her selfe, and her 
sober gouernement [it] may be a sufficient testimony, that 
Enuy hirself was dumbe in her dispraise, finding in het 
much to repine at, but naught to reproue. The clearenes 
of hir honor I neede not to mention, she hauing alwaies 
armed it with such modestie as taught the most vntem- 
perate tongues to be silent in her presence, and answered 
their eyes with scorne and contempt, that did but seeme 
to make her an aime to passion ; yea, and in this behalfe, 
as almost in all others, shee hath the most honourable 
and knowen ladies of the Land so common and knowen 
witnesses, that those that least loued her rehgion were in 
loue with her demeanour, deliuering their opinions in 
open praises. How mildely she accepted the checke of 
fortune fallen vpon her without desert, experience hath 
bin a most manifest proofe ; the temper of her mind being 


SO easie that she found little difficultie in taking downe 
her thoughts to a meane degree, which true honour not 
pride hath raised to her former height ; her faithfulnes 
and loue, where she found true friendship, is written with 
teares in many eies, and will be longer registred in grate- 
ful memories.'^ Scattered up and down the ' Triumphs' 
are felicitous conceits and most ingenious applications of 
Bible facts and names : e.g. ' Would Saul have thought 
it friendship to have wept for his fortune in hauing found 
a kingdome by seeking of cattel ? or Dauid account it 
a curtesie to have sorowed at his successe, that from 
folowing sheep came to foyle a giant and receiue in fine 
a royall crowne for his victorie ? Why then should 
her loss bee lamented V Again : ' Wee moisten not the 
ground with pretious waters. They were stilled to nobler 
endes, eyther by their fruits to delight our sences, or by 
their operation to preserve our healths. Our teares are 
water of too high a price to be prodigally poured in the 
dust of any graues. If they be teares of loue, they per- 
fume our prayers.' Once more : ' When Moses threw 
his rod from him, it became a serpent, redy to sting, and 
affrighted him, insomuch as it made him to flee ; but 
being quickly taken vp, it was a rod againe, seruiceable 
for his vse, no way hurtful. The crosse of Christ and 
rod of every tribulation seem to threaten stinging and 
terrour to those that shunne and eschew it, but they that 
mildely take it up and embrace it with patience may say 
with David (Psalme xxiii.), " Thy rod and Thy staffe 

' Our text is the edition of 1590, which being unpaged, re- 
ferences are not easy : but being short the Reader will readily 
find our quotations. Sir Egerton Brydges reprinted the ' Tri- 


have been my comfort." ' Yet again : ' She stood vpon 
too lowe a ground to take view of her Sauior's most de- 
sired countenance, and forsaking the earth, with Zacheus, 
she climed vp into the tree of Ufe, there to giue her soule 
a full repast on His beauties. . . . shee departed, with 
Jepthae's daughter from her father's house, but to passe 
some moneths in wand ring about the mountaynes of this 
troublesome world. . . . and to ascend out of this desart 
like a stemme [= steam] of perfume out of burned 
spices.' WiLLMOTT appositely (as before, first edition of 
' Lives,' p. 13) reminds us in relation to the closing image, 
that the voice of the ' Lady' in Comus is described as 
rising ' like a steam of rich distilled perfumes.' The fol- 
lowing seems to me to contain in brief a very famous paper 
of Addison in The Spectator : ' If men should lay all 
their evilles together, to be afterwards by equall portions 
divided among them, most men would rather take that 
they brought than stand to the diuision.' I close with three 
sentences (' golden' the Puritans would have called them) 
that you inevitably note in reading : ' That which dietli 
to our loue is always aliue to our sorrow.' ' The termes 
of our life are like the seasons of the yeare, some for sow- 
ing, some for growing, and some for reaping : in this 
only different, that as the heauens keepe their prescribed 
periods, so the succession of times have their appointed 
changes ; but in the seasons of our life, which are not the 
laws of necessarie causes, some are reaped in the seed, 
some in the blade, some in the vnripe eares, all in the 
end : the haruest depending vpon the Reaper's wil.' ' The 
dwarfe groweth not on the highest hill, nor the tall man 
looseth not his height in the lowest valley.' 

' Mary IVIagdalene's Fiinerall Teares' was in part 


reprinted by Dr. Isaac Watts along with his own 
Hymns ; and it has never, I suppose, been ' out of print.' 
I confess, that it has a morbid sentimentalism about 
it not at all pleasing — after the type of a good deal 
of Father Faber's otherwise striking and suggestive 
Prose — an over-dwelling upon and over-valuation of 
' weeping' ijer se, that repells. And yet ever and anon 
one is arrested by a quaint fancy, an odd metaphor, as 
of a gargoyle or cathedral-stall oaken carving. Thus 
of Mary, as she stood at the empty tomb in her sor- 
row, he says, ' Alas, how vnfortunate is this woman, to 
whom neither life will afoord a desired farewell, nor 
death allow any wished welcome ! Bhe hath abandoned 
the liuing, and chosen the company of the dead ; and 
now it seemeth that euen the dead have forsaken her, 
since the coarse she seeketh is taken away from her^^ 
Again : ' Though teares were rather oyle than water to 
her flame, apter to nourish than diminish her griefe, yet 
now being plunged in the depth of paine, she yeelded 
herselfe captiue to all discomfort.' Once more: ' Re- 
member [Lord] that Thou saidst to her sister, that *' Mary 
had chosen the better part, which should not be taken 
from her." That she chose the " best part" is out of 
the question, sith she made choice of nothing but only of 
Thee. But how can it be verified, that this part shall 
not be taken from her, sith Thou that art this part art 
already taken away?' Here and elsewhere, without au- 
thority, Southwell assumes ' Mary Magdalene' to have 
been Mary of Bethany : but the argument is lovingly 

' As with the ' Triumphs," our text fl630) is unpaged, and 
hence we can't give references for our quotations ; but again 
the treatise is brief. 



dexterous on the (erroneous) assumption. Reasoning 
that is now commonplace, through famiharity, is notice- 
able in its early occurrence in our Worthy: e. g. ' Would 
any theefe, thinkest thou, haue beene so religious, as to 
haue stolen the body and left the clothes 1 yea, would 
he haue beene so vertuous as to haue stayed the vn- 
shrouding of the coarse, the well-ordering of the sheets, 
and folding vp the napkins ? Thou knowest that the 
myrrh maketh linnen cleaue as fast as pitch or glue : 
and was a theefe at so much leasure, as to dissolue the 
myrrh and vncloath the dead ?' and so on. Once more : 
' If thou [Mary] seest anything that beareth colour of 
mirth, it is vnto thee like the rich spoiles of a van- 
quished kingdome in the eye of a captiue prince, which 
puts him in mind what he had, not what he hath, and 
are but vpbraidings of his losse and whetstones of sharper 
sorrow.' Again : ' Loue is no gift except the giuer be 
giuen with it ;' and ' Loue is not ruled with reason, but 
with loue.' Yet again : ' If sorrow at the crosse did not 
make thee as deafe as at the tombe, it maketh thee for- 
getfull, thou diddest in confirmation hereof heare Him- 
selfe say to one of the theeues, that the same day he 
should be with Him in Paradise.' Finally : on the words 
' she taking Him to be a gardener,' there is this odd 
expostulation passing into genuine exposition : ' Hath 
thy Lord liued so long, laboured so much, died with such 
paine, and shed such showers of bloud, to come to no 
higher preferment, than to be a gardener? And hast 
thou bestowed such cost, so much sorrow and so many 
teares, for no better man than a silly gardener ? Alas, 
is the sorry garden the best inheritance that thy loue 
can afoord Him, or a gardener's office the highest dig- 


nitie that tliou wilt allow Him ? It had beene better He 
had lined to haue beene lord of thy cattle [Magdala], 
than with His death so dearely to haue bought so small 
a purchase. But thy mistaking hath in it a further 
mysterie. Thou thinkest not amisse, though thy sight 
be deceiued. For as our first father, in the state of grace 
and innocency, was placed in the garden of pleasure, 
and the first office allotted him was to be a gardener ; so 
the first man that euer was in glory, appeareth first in 
a garden, and presenteth Himselfe in a gardener's like- 
nesse, that the beginnings of glorie might resemble the 
entrance of innocencie and grace. And as the gardener 
was the fall of mankinde, the parent of sinne, and. au- 
thor of death, so is this gardener the raiser of our mines, 
the ransome of our offences, and the restorer of life. In 
a garden Adam was deceiued and taken captiue by the 
deuill. In a garden Christ was betrayed and taken pri- 
soner by the Jewes. In a garden Adam was condemned 
to earne his bread with the sweat of his browes. And 
after a free gift of the bread of angels in the Last Sup- 
per, in a garden Christ did earne it vs with a bloudy 
sweat of His whole body. By disobedient eating the 
fruit of a tree, our right to that garden was by Adam 
forfeited ; and by the obedient death of Christ vpon a 
tree, a farre better right is now recouered. When Adam 
had sinned in the garden of pleasure, he was there ap- 
parelled in dead beasts' skinnes, that his garment might 
betoken his graue, and his liuery of death agree with 
his condemnation to die. And now to defray the debt 
of that sinne, in this garden Christ lay clad in the dead 
man's shrowd and buried in his tombe, that as our harmes 
began, so they might end ; and such places and mcanes 


as were the premises to our misery, might be also the 
conclusions of our misfortune ;' and so on, after the 
manner of St. Bernard. ' Mary Magdalen's Funerall 
Teares' supplies also words of Southwell used in his 
Poems, e. g. sindon, wrecke as = wreak, demurres, and 
the like. 

The ' Short Rules' are in many respects admirable 
and ' charitable,' but offer nothing very remarkable. The 
instructions concerning ' children' and * servants' are 

With relation to the Stonyhurst mss. I must express 
an earnest hope that some one capable will make them 
the basis of an adequate edition of the Prose Writings 
of Southwell, and that the ms. ' Meditations,' formerly 
in possession of Walter and lately of Dolman, will be 
forthcoming. The ' Precationes' and * Meditationes' and 
' Notes on Theology' most certainly ought not to remain 
in MS. only. 

Passing now to the Poetry of our Worthy, from its 
greater extent, St. Peter's Complaint claims perhaps first 
thought. When we come to examine it, to ' search' it 
— the old (English) Bible word — it is discovered to par- 
take very much of the character of the shorter poems. 
That is to say, that while a thread of unity runs through 
it, it really is rather a succession of separate studies on 
the sad Fall of St. Peter than a single rounded poem ; 
so much so, that were it divided into portions and given 

' Originally issued as 'A Shorte Rule,' the little tractate gi-ew 
to the ' Short Eules' of the collective edition of 1630. Kerslake 
of Bristol had an autograph ms. of the earlier form, ' A shorte 
Rule of Good Lyfe to direct the devoute Christian in a regular 
and orderlie course.' (Catal. Feb. 1860, No. 449, 4/. 14s.) 


headings, as with the minor pieces in the 1616 edition, 
we should discern no abruptness, and no distinction as 
between them and the others. As we have found in the 
Memoir, the Stonyhurst mss, contain only 12 out of the 
131 stanzas (see page 2) ; and in this form it exists in 
various contemporary and later copies. Again, in Eliza- 
beth Grymeston's Miscellanea, Meditations Memora- 
tiues (1604), ^ sixteene staves' are taken from the long 
Poem, which it is said ' she usually sung and played on 
winde instruments.' Each ' stave' or stanza is prefaced 
by prose 'meditations' or prayers, simple, sweet, and 
affectionate. Thus it would seem St. Peter's Complaint 
extended beyond its Author's original design. That it 
cost him no little thought and ' pains' and prayer, the 
fragmentary mss. of Stonyhurst prove. There are sepa- 
rate stanzas written and re-written, and corrected and re- 
corrected : e.g. a heading is ' The Peeter Playnt' {sic) with 
' The' erased ; and then as follows : 

' That sturdy peter ^nd boaste 

The champion stout which did with othe avowe 
Amyds a thousand pykes and blody blades 
At his deare masters syde to yeld the ghoast 
Perceyvyng that he conquered of two mades wittTdread*^ 

his credit distayne and oowardyce 

Even at the pinch from premiss did retyi'e he fades, and 

a7iffri/ smart at the pinch 

The shame, the pitye and the gryping griefe his loyalty doth 
Loth of his fait and of his maysters paynes stayne. 

A thousand daggers stabbed in his hart [erased] 
did with puniardes pushes [erased] stabbe 

A thousand luoundes prickyns [erased] pearce [erased] his 

So throughout. There are also prose-jottings of ideas 
and metaphors for the poem : e.g. commencing with verse 
and going on ad interim in prose : 


' Ech eie of Chryst a rimniug tunge did seeme 
ech lyk a listning 
And peters eis so many eagre eares [' s' erased] Eclie ey of pe- 
Prest to recyve the voyce and it esteame iTiLg^eare"**' 

According to that sense that it should heare. 
More fierce he seemed to say ar thy eis 
Then the iminous hands which shall naile me on the crosse 
Nether feele I any blow [sic] which do so annoy me 
Of so many which this gylty 
rahle doth on me lay 

As that blow which came out of thy mouth. 
None faythful found I, none courteous 
Of so many that I have vochsafned to be myne 
But thow in whome my was more kyndled 
And faythlesse and iingi-atefull above all other 
All other with there (cowardly) flyght did only oflfend 
me my 

But thou hast denyed and now with the other (foes) [sic] ghilty 
Standest feedynd thy eies with my damage (and sorowes) 
As though part of this pleasur belonged unto the.' 

These specimens must suffice; and the critical Reader 
will delight to compare them with the ultimate published 

In the Note to St. Peter's Complaint (page 2) I ven- 
ture to assign it a foremost place only on the ground of its 
being longer than the others. I adhere to the verdict, inas- 
much as there are in ' Mjeonite' and our ' Myrta^' shorter 
pieces that attain a reach and sweep, and which gleam 
with a dove-neck or peacock-crest splendour of colour, only 
now and again paralleled in the ' Complaint.' At the same 
time, regarded as so many distinct Studies of the tragic 
Incident, it is ignorance, not knowledge, glance-and-run 
reading, not insight, that will pronounce it tedious or idly 

' As these variations and studies are peculiarly interesting 
I give the remainder (not extensive) in Additional Notes and Il- 
lustrations at close of the Volume. 


paraphrastic. Bishop Hall, among the many mis-esti- 
mates of his passionate youth, in his ' Satires' (Book i. 
viii.) has one mocking line on the ' Complaint :' 

' Now good St. Peter weeps pure Helicon,' 

with a gibe at * Mary's Funerall Teares;' and Gervase 
Markham's ' Lamentations of Mary Magdalene' (reprinted 
in our Fuller Worthies' Miscellanies) : 

' And both the Marys make a music luoan.' 
But Marston repaid the Satirist with compound interest : 

' Come daunce, ye stumbling SatjTes, by his side, 
If he list once the Syon Muse deride. 
Ye Granta's white nymphs come, and with you bring 
Some sillabub, whilst he does sweetly sing 
'Gainst Peter's Teares and Marie's mouing Moane, 
And, like a fierce enraged boare doth foame.'' 

Lodge and Nash have kindly allusions to the ' Funerall 
Teares' and Southwell : the former in his ' Prosopopeia, 
containing the Teares of the holy, blessed, and sancti- 
fied Marie, the mother of God' (see Shakespeare Society 
Papers, ii. 157); and so too in ' Pierce's Supererogation.' 
But it is from the shorter Poems the vitality of South- 
well's memory as a Singer has sprung and will abide. 
Our Memoir establishes that some of the tenderest and 
sweetest must have been composed after the anguish of 
his ' thirteen rackings' and other prison tortures. The poor 
Canary continuing to sing in the darkness of its artificial 
and cruel sightlessness (for the eyes are put out on pur- 
pose to secure ' singing' at night as during the day) is an 
imperfect symbol of our Poet continuing to utter out 
the music that was in him under such contlitions. Pro- 

' Reactio, sat. iv. Hall's Works (18.39), vol. xii. pp. 1G9-170. 


bably his entire Poems were produced in prison ; and I 
must reiterate that this inevitableness surely determines 
that his most quaint and affected-seeming Verse was na- 
tural, spontaneous, truthful. The man is a pretender who 
can really ' ponder' ' Myrtle' and ' Majonije' and the rest, 
and not recognise a born-poet in Southwell; not supreme, 
high-soaring, imaginatiye, grand, but within his own self- 
chosen lowly sphere pure and bright, well-languaged and 
memorable and thought-packed.^ I name and only name 
' Tymes goe by Turnes;' ' Look Home;' ' Scorne not the 
Least;' 'A Child my Choyce;' 'Content andEiche;' 
' Love's Servile Lott;' 'Life is but Losse,' and those 
related; ' Lewd Lone is Losse;' ' Dyer's Phansie turned 
to a Synner's Complaynte;' and the whole series on the 
Lord and His Mother, with every abatement that we, who 
are Protestants, must make in respect of the uttermost 
recognition of her as the God-bearer {Qzoroxog.) The 
Latin Poems — printed by us for the first time — have, as 
our few notes show, certain superficial metrical defects ; 
but apart from other things, as their subjects, which are 
of special interest, I must regard the long poem on the 
Assumption of the Virgin as bold, original, unforgettable; 
while that on the Prodigal has a pre-Eaphaelite reahsm 
that is taking. Altogether, in recollection of their (early) 
date and of the circumstances of their composition, it 
were a loss to our small body of English Sacred Poetry 
to lose Southwell. The hastiest Eeader will come on 
' thinking' and ' feehng' that are as musical as Apollo's 
lute, and as fresh as a spring-budding spray ; and the 
wording of all (excepting over-alliteration and inversion 

' Cf. the Preface -Epistle to bis ' loving cosen' for his humble 
self-estimate, as onward. 


occasionally) is throughout of the ' pure well of English 
undefiled.' When you take some of the ' Myrtse' and 
' M^oniaa' pieces, and read and re-read them, you are 
struck with their condensation, their concinnity, their 
polish, their elan, their memorableness. Holiness is in 
them not as scent on love- locks, but as fragrance in the 
Great Gardener's flowers of fragrance. His tears are 
pure and white as the * dew of the morning.' His smiles 
— for he has humour, even wit, that must have lurked 
in the burdened eyes and corners o' mouth — are sunny 
as sunshine. As a whole his Poetry is healthy and 
strong, and I thmk has been more potential in our Lite- 
rature than appears on the surface. I do not think it 
would be hard to show that others of whom more is heard 
drew light from him, as well early as more recent, from 
Burns to Thomas Hood. For example, limiting us to 
the latter, I believe every Reader who will compare the 
two deliberately, will see in the ' Vale of Tears' the source 
of the latter's immortal ' Haunted House' — dim, faint, 
weak beside it, as the earth-hid bulb compared with the 
lordly blossom of hyacinth or tulip or lily — nevertheless 
really carrying in it the original of the mightier after- 

It only remains that I bring before our Readers cer- 
tain Shakespereana out of Southwell. And in the 
outset here, while I am not one of those who find allu- 
sions to Shakespeare in contemporary writings when 
the writers were not thinking of him — though I believe 
that his scenic realities were more suggestive to his bro- 
ther authors than is commonly supposed — and while I do 
not think that he alone is alluded to in the Epistle to his 
' loving cosen' as preface to St. Peter's Complaint, I yet 


XP MIvM(>UlAL-lXTR(Jl)rt'TI(>X. 

must discern thought of the Poet of ' Venus and Adonis' 
and ' Lucrece' in these words, which 1 give from the 
Stonyhurst autograph in the original spelling, not as in 
our reprint (in its place) from 159G : ' The devill as he 
affecteth deitye, and seeketh to have all the complementes 
of divine honor applied to his service, so hath he amonge 
the reste possessed also most Poetes with his idle phancies; 
for in liew of solemne and devoute matter, to which in 
dutye they owe their abilities, they now busy themselves 
in expressing such passions as onely serve for testimo- 
nies to howe unworthy affections they have wedded their 
willes. And because the best course to lett them see the 
error of their workes is to weave a newe webb in their 
owne loome, I have here laid a fewe course thredds to- 
gether to invite some skilfuUer wittes to goe forward in 
the same or to beginne some fyner peece, wherein it maye 
be scene how well verse and vertae suite together.' Then 
in St. Peter's Complaint (The Author to the Reader) we 
have this more express allusion : 

' Still finest wits are 'stilling Venvs' rose, 
In Payuim toyes the sweetest vaines are spent.' 

We shall produce internal and external evidence imme- 
diately ; but at this point I observe that in ' Mary Mag- 
dalen's Fanerall Teares' there is like lamentation over 
the ' finest wits' given up to mere ' idle' love-verse, yet 
with a very clear recognition of the loftiest genius : e. g. 
in the Epistle-dedicatory, ' The Ji nest wits are now giuen 
to write passionate discourses;' and in 'To the Reader,' 
' It may be that cotirteous skill will reckon, this though 
course in respect of others' exquisite labours, not unfit to 
entertaine well- tempered humours.' 

Be it remembered farther that at the })oriod ' St. Pe- 


ter's Complaint' was written, ' Venus and Adonis' was 
one of the poems of the day, tabled and learnt by the 
gallants, and applied by them in complimentary address 
to their mistresses : also, that the stanza-form of the two 
poems is identical, and that ' Venus' is mentioned by 
name. Then more specifically in the next stanza (11. 2-4) 
and St. vi. of the ' Complaint' itself, reference is intended 
to the same chiefest Poets (and it need hardly be said 
that the modern theory of the non-appreciation of Shake- 
speare by his contemporaries is a baseless and ignorant 
vision); and that at a time when epithets were fixed upon 
each author of mark, and when ' sweef was a recognised 
appellative of the silver-tongued Meliceit — coming up later 
in Milton to the perplexity of the present Archbishop of 
Dublin (Trench), through his forgetfulness of the love 
and intensity that went as elements in the word * sweet,' as 
then and even still in the rapture of fellowship with the 
Lord Jesus. Hence I conclude that Shakespeare's 'ex- 
quizite labours' and ' finest wit' were included in ' the 
heavenly sparks of wit who spend their sweetest veins in 
Paynim toys.' 

Nor is this all. Turning to St. Peter's Complaint, 
st. Ivii.-ix. and part of the next, and especially the first 
two lines of the stanza next but one (st. Ixii.), and st. 
Ixv. 'Oh eyes, whose glances!' — let the Shakesperean 
student compare them with the thesis maintained by 
Biron in Love's Labour Lost (iv. .3) : 

' From women's eyes this doctrine I derive : — 
They sijarkle still the right Promethean /ire ; 
They are the booka, the arts, the acudemien. 
That shoiv, contain, and nourish all the world." 

Biron's speech being a humorously sophistical mainten- 


ance of a thesis iu scholastic form — not noticing which 
the Commentators have gone astray. In our Notes and 
Ilhistrations I furnish other SnAKESPEARE-parallels and 
(probable or possible) allusions and elucidations : and I 
invite attention to them. 

By the way, it is worth recording that one unusual 
use of a word ('vaunt,' page 90) by Southwell, has a 
near parallel in the Prologue to Troilus and Cressida, 
' leaps o'er the vaunt.' Then, as noted in the place (p. 49), 
' the cold brook candied with ice' (Timon, act iv. sc. 3); 
if Shakespeare's, was not improbably borrowed from 
our Poet, for Timon in its present state is several years 
later than 1595. On the other hand, the words may be 
those of the older Play. Farther, in ' Of the Blessed 
Sacrament of the Aulter' = as we have seen, ' The Chris- 
tian's Manna,' stanza iii., smacks of Cu})id's prologue 
in the same Timon (i. 2). It is allowable to indulge in 
the ' pleasures of imagination' that the mightier Poet read 
the lesser, and that the lesser recognised the coming 
effulgence of England's supremest genius. One sentence 
in the Epistle to his ' loving cosen' reveals that play or 
stage-fetched metaphors were not accounted unhallowed 
by our Worthy, inasmuch as he applies such to the Tra- 
gedy and Pageant of Calvary. From Southwell's pos- 
session in (necessarily) ms. of Sir Edward Dyer's 'Phansie' 
(turned by him characteristically into a ' Sinner's Plaint'), 
it is plain he had access to circles where such Manuscripts 
were circulated, and it may be even Shakespeare's ' copies 
in MS.' of his ' sweet' poems similarly reached him. It 
does not appear that he had seen Lord Brooke's deeper 
original of Dyer's ' Phansie.' We have also pleasantly 
to remember that in his ' Conversations' with Drummond 


of Hawthoniden, Ben Juns^on thus spoke of Southwell 
and one of his poems : ' That Southwell was hanged ; yet 
so he [Jonson] had written that piece of his, the Burning 
Babe, he would have been content to destroy many of 
his' (Laing's edit. p. 13) : and if Jqnson 'read' South- 
well, equally may ' gentle Will' have done so. 

Regarding the 'wording' of Southwell's poetry, it 
seems to me very pure English for the time, which is the 
more noticeable in that a Latinate style might have been 
expected. Occasionally there is a poetic-archaic word — of 
one or two of which he is extremely fond — and also in- 
tended or accidental provincialisms. In pronunciation 
the liquid syllables are generally elided, as is ' ow,' and 
words like ' orient' and ' period' are trisyllabic, ' spirit' 
gener-ally read as ' sprite,' ' haven' ' heaven,' ' even' (as 
adv.-verb, and in ' uneven') always monosyllabic, and 
' evil' nearly always so — all as pointed out in our Notes 
and Illustrations. Now and then, by license and metri 
gratia, -ions and -ion are made dissyllables. He also 
makes over-use of a poetic license and affectation, and 
mars the sound of his verse by the too frequently recur- 
ring -ed. His sentences are short, especially so as com- 
pared with many writers of the period, and rhythmical, 
and he adds to the latter by a marked alliterativeness. 
In construction he is generally clear and English, and as 
with his words, less Latinate than might have been sup- 
posed, except that there is a great omission of the arti- 
cle, a great use of ellipses both regular and irregular, 
and far too frequent inversions, which sometimes obscure 
the sense, and in one instance imparts a dash of the 
ludicrous, e.g. 'of pearl the purest mother,' as = mother- 
of-pearl. As examples of irregular ellipses, we find ' thy 


trespass' [being], which has to be taken out of ' be' (p, 
11, line 17); fray [was] (p. 18, line 2); part [me from 
Christ] (p. 20, line 13); keep [me] (p. 29, line 2). The 
' blind in seeing what' [was present] {p. 14, line 2) pro- 
bably comes rather under the head of a colloquial ellipse, 
and one of those many phrases in the old writers which 
are more or less obscure, because the Writers have writ- 
ten too much as they would have spoken, not allow- 
ing for the absence of other language, and for that sym- 
pathy and consentaneous knowledge which generally 
exist between the speaker and listener. Hence we find 
a difficulty at times in referring the pronoun to its pro- 
per noun, because the writer does not think so much of 
the word -construction as of the main idea or subject 
of his discourse, and writes too colloquially. Thus, at 
p. 39, lines 19-20, 'whose' refers to 'parts,' not to 
'gripes;' and at p. .119, line 8, 'he' is not Joseph, 
but God ; and at p. 68, the ' they' of line 5 of ' Scorne 
not the Leaste' refers not to higher powers, but to 
' feebler part.' 

There is another obscurity common to Southwell and 
writers of his day, in connection with the possessive pro- 
noun and case, which is dependent on the causes spoken 
of above, but which has sometimes been mis-explained. 
'My injuries' meant, according to the context, either the 
injuries done by another to me, or the wrongs that I do 
or did to others ; in the one case the other person or 
persons are mainly thought of and considered agental ; 
in the other case I am the chief subject of my ideas and 
the agent. In such phrases as ' this box is my gift,' or 
' this box is his gift,' the other circumstances alone in- 
terpret whether it is meant 'this box is the gift bestowed 


on me' (or him), or 'this box is the gift bestowed by me' 
(or him). ' Angels' bread' might be, bread prepared by 
or brought by angels, or it might be the bread given to 
angels — according to whatever the context determines 
to be the agent. So in 'God is my gift' (p. 128, line 17), 
it is only the context that shows that 'gift' is that which 
CJod gave, and has only become mine through His agency, 
and that the 'God's gift am 1' means ' I have given my- 
self as a gift to God.' 

I cannot close these inadequate remarks on South - 
AVELL without expressing the profound regret and pain 
— in common with many of his warmest admirers — with 
which I read Professor Lowell's verdict on his Poetry, 
in his charming ' My Study Windows' (on Smith's ' Lib- 
rary of old Authors'). It seems to me harsh to brutal- 
ity on the man (meet follower of Him ' the first true 
gentleman that ever breathed') ; while on the Poetry it 
rests on self- evidently the most superficial acquaintance 
and the hastiest generalisation. To pronounce ' St. Pe- 
ter's Complaint' a ' drawl' of thirty pages of ' maudlin 
repentance, in which the distinctions between the north 
and north-east sides of a [sic] sentimentality are worthy 
of Duns Scotus,' shows about as much knowledge — that 
is ignorance — of the Poem as of the Schoolman, and as 
another remark does of St. Peter : for, with admitted 
tedium, St. Peter's Complaint sounds depths of penit- 
ence and remorse, and utters out emotion that flames 
into passion very unforgettably, while there are felicities 
of metaphor, daintinesses of word-painting, brilliancies of 
inner-portraiture scarcely to be matched in contemporary 
Verse. The ' paraphrase' of David (to wit, ' David's 
Peccavi') is a single short piece, and the ' punning' con- 


found tliat a man has, for the sole sake of self-abnega- 
tion, yielded homage, where, if his object had been perso- 
nal aggrandisement, he might have wielded authority. 
Southwell, if that which comes from within a man may 
be taken as the test of his character, was a devout and 
humble Christian. In the choir of our singers we only 
ask, " Dost thou lift up thine heart?" Southwell's song 
answers for him : " I lift it up unto the Lord." 

' His chief poem is called St. Pcter^s Complaint. It 
is of considerable length — a hundred and thirty-two 
stanzas. It reminds us of the Countess of Pembroke's 
poem [' Our Saviour's Passion'] ; but is far more ar- 
ticulate and far superior in versification. Perhaps its 
chief fault is, that the pauses are so measured with the 
lines as to make every line almost a sentence, the effect 
of which is a considerable degree of monotony. Like all 
luriters of the time., he is of course fond of antithesis, and 
abounds in conceits and fancies ; whence he attributes a 
multitude of expressions to St. Peter, of which never 
possibly could the substantial ideas have entered the 
Apostle's mind, or probably any other than Southwell's 
own. There is also a good deal of sentimentalism in the 
poem; a fault from which I fear modern Catholic verse 
is rarely free. Probably the Italian poetry with which 
he must have been' familiar in his youth, during his re- 
sidence in Rome, accustomed him to such irreverences 
of expression as this sentimentalism gives occasion to, 
and which are very far from indicating a correspondent 
state of feeling. Sentiment [alism] is a poor ape of love; 
but the love is true, notwithstanding.' There follow six 
stanzas from St. Peter's Complaint, and 'two little stanzas 
worth preserving,' and ' New Prince, New Pomp,' the last 


thus introduced: ' The following poem, in style almost as 
simple as a ballad, is at once of the quaintest and truest. 
Common minds, which must always associate a certain 
conventional respectability with the forms of religion, 
will think it irreverent. I judge its reverence profound, 
and such none the less that it is pervaded by a sweet and 
delicate tone of holy humour. The very title has a glim- 
mer of the glowing heart of Christianity.' He continues: 
'Another, on the same subject, he c&Wa New Heaven, New 
War. It is fantastic to a degree. One stanza, however, 
I like much : 

This little babe, so few days old, &c. 
There is profoundest truth in the symbolism of this.' I 
again intercalate, that Ben Jonson's insight was disclosed 
in his love for the kindred Burning Babe, and its mao-- 
nificent as simple symbolism. Dr. Macdonald concludes 
with the latter half of St. Peter's Remorse and Content 
and Rich.^ 

I believe, then, I shall not appeal in vain to Prof. 
Lowell to give a few hours behind his ' Study Win- 
dows' to a re-perusal of some of the poems of South^vell 
named by us and. these sufficiently-qualified Critics. 

And so I take from ' The Lady of La Garaye' a por- 
trait of a Prior, for which I fancy Father Southwell 
might have sate : 

He sits by Gertrude's couch and patieut listens 
To her wild gi-ieving voice ; bis dark eye glistens 
With tearful sympathy for that young wife, 
Telling the torture of her broken life ; 
And when he answers her she seeius to know 
The peace of resting by a river's flow. 

• Pp. 96-103. 


Tender his words, and eloquently wise ; 

Mild the pure fervour of his watchful eyes ; 

Meek with serenity of constant prayer 

The luminous forehead, high and hroad and hare ; 

The thin mouth, though not passionless, yet still ; 

With a sweet calm that speaks an angel's will, 

Resolving service to his God's hehest, 

And ever musing how to serve Him hest. 

Not old, nor young ; with manhood's gentlest gi-ace ; 

Pale to transparency the pensive face, 

Pale not with sickness hut with studious thought. 

The hody tasked, the fine mind overwrought ; 

With something faint and fragile in the whole. 

As though 'twere but a lamp to hold a soul.' 

Alexander B. Grosart.- 

1 By Hon. Mrs. Norton (1863), pp. 120-1. 
" At end of our Volume I add a few farther Notes and Blus- 
trations on points touched on in their places. 



We place St. Peter's Complaint first, simply because it is 
the longest verse-production of its author, not at all as being 
his best. The only complete us. of this poem known, is that 
of Addl. Mss. 10.422 in British Museum ; but while furnishing 
a few good readings, it is, in common with the whole Manu- 
script, sorrowfully careless and corrupt ; as fully shown in our 
Preface. The Stonyhtjrst ms. and Hakleian ms. 6921 unfor- 
tunately contain only 12 stanzas out of the 132 ; viz. 10, 11, 
28, 29, 14, 17, 30, 21, 22, 20, 23, and 131 of the completed poem. 
So that we have been obliged to fall back on the printed edi- 
tions. Again, unfortunately, we have most unsatisfactory texts 
to work on, even the original edition of 1595 and that assigned 
by us to 1596 being extremely faulty ; as also shown in our 
Preface. After an anxious collation of mss. and editions, we 
have taken for basis the edition of 1596 ; and in Notes and Il- 
lustrations at the close of the poem, record corrections and 
various readings, with their several authorities in ms. and print. 
Opposite is the title-page of 1596. It is placed within an 
engi-aved border of quaint device, and having in the centre an 
open book with an hour-glass set on it, and the motto, ' I line 
to dy : I dy to line' (in Jesus College, Oxford, copy there is this 
in a contemporary hand, ' Vt moriar vivo : vt viva morior'), and 
underneath a winged death's-head and a globe ; all as repro- 
duced in fac-simile in our illustrated quarto edition. For more 
on this edition, and certain significances in its ornaments, and 
others, see our Preface. 

The Notes and Illustrations are placed at the close of St. 
Peter's Complaint, and of each of the others, as throughout. 
Our Memorial-Introduction sheds light on the formation of the 
' Complaint :' and thither the reader is referred. G. 


Newly augmented 
With other Poems. 

I line I dy 

to to 

dy liue 


Printed by H. L. for William Lcakc : and 
are to be sold at his shop in Paules Church- 
yard, at the signe of the holy 

[n.d. 1596? 4to.] 


Poets, by abusing their talent, and making the follies 
and faynings of loue the customarie subiect of their 
base endeiiours, haue so discredited this facultie, that 
a poet, a louer, and a Iyer, are by many reckoned but 
three words of one signification. But the vanitie of 
men cannot counterpoyse the authoritie of God, Who 
deliuering many parts of Scripture in verse, and, by 
His Apostle willing vs to exercise our deuotion in 
hymnes and spiritual sonnets, warranteth the art to 
be good, and the vse allowable. And therefore not 
onely among the heathen, whose gods were chiefely 
canonized by their poets, and their paynim diuinitie 
oracled, in verse, but euen in the Olde and Newe 
Testament, it hath beene vsed by men of gi-eatest 

• Tliis forms the Author's preface to the volume of 1595, 
aud is repeated in that of 159G and after-editions. On the 
Stonyhukst MS. of this Epistle-dedicatory see our Memorial- 
Introduction. These corrections of Tuenbull's text may be 
noted : line 8, ' deliuering' for ' delivered :' line 10, ' sonnets' 
for ' songs :' line 22, ' and footed' dropped out: line 40, ' com- 
mend it' for 'he commended:' line 47, 'the mcane' for 'let 
them.' These readings are all in 1616, 1620 and 1630, as well 
as 1595 and 1596. G. 


pietie, in matters of most deuotioii. Christ Himselfe, 
by making a liymne the condusion of His Last Sup- 
per, and the prologue to the first pageant of His Pas- 
sion, gaue His Spouse a methode to imitate, as in the 
office of the Church it appeareth ; and to all men a 
patterne, to know the true vse of this measured and 
footed stile. 

But the deuill, as he aflfecteth deitie and seeketh 
to haue all the complements of diuine honour applyed 
to his seruice, so hath he among the rest possessed 
also most Poets with his idle fansies. For in lieu of 
solemne and deuout matter, to which in duety they owe 
their abilities, they now busie themselues in express- 
ing such passions as onely serue for testimonies to 
what unworthy affections they haue wedded their wills. 
And, because the best course to let them see the er- 
rour of their Avorks is to weaue a new webbe in theu- 
owne loome, I haue heere laide a few course threds 
together, to inuite some skilfuller wits to goe forward 
in the same, or to begin some finer peece; wherein 
it may be scene how well verse and vertue sute to- 

Blame me not (good Cosin) tliough I send you a 
blame -worthy present; in which the most that can 
commend it is the good wiU of the Writer ; neither 
arte nor invention giuing it any credite. If in me this 
be a fault, you cannot be faultlesse that did importune 
mc to commit it, and tlicrefore you must bcare part 


of the penance when it shall please sharp censures 
to impose it. In the meane time, with many good 
wishes, I send you these fewe ditties; adde you the 
tunes, and let the Meane, I pray you, be still a part 
in all your musicke. 



Deare eye that doost peruse my Muses stile, i 

With easie censure deeme of my delight : 

Giue sobrest countenance leaue sometime to smile, 

And graucst wits to take a breathing flight : 

Of mirth to make a trade, may be a crime, 5 

But tyred spirits for mirth must hauc a time. 

The loftie eagle soares not stiU aboue, 

High flights will force her from the wing to stoupe ; 

And studious thoughts at times men must remoue. 

Least by excesse before their time they droupe. i o 

In courser studies 'tis a sweet repose, 

With poets pleasing vaine to temper prose. 

Profane conceits and faining fits I flie, 

Such lawlesse stuffe doth lawlesse speeches fit : 

With Dauid, verse to Vertue I apply, 1 5 

Whose measure best with measured words doth lit : 

It is the sweetest note that man can sing. 

When grace in Vertue's key tunes Nature's string. 

' This and the next poem bflong to the whole vohime, and 
not merely to St. Petei-'s Complaint. G. 



St. i. line 2, ' deeme' is=pronounce judgment, as in ' deems- 
ter,' Dempster. ' Deemed' as a participial is similarly used 
in ' Life is but Losse' (line 5), 'where death is deemed gaine,' 
for adjudged or pronounced ' gain ;' at least this gives a stronger 
and better sense than if it betaken as merely =thought or con- 
sidered, or than if ' is deemed' be taken as a verb. 

St. ii. line 1, ' still' is = constantly, without reference, as now, 
to any particular moment of time. Such usfe was not unfre- 
quent contemporarily. 

St. ii. line 4, Tuenbull misprints ' the' for ' their,' and in 
st. iii. line 1, ' feigned' for ' feigning.' G. 


Deare eye, that day nest to let fall a looke i 

On these sad memories of Peter's plaints : 
Muse not to see some mud in clearest brooke ; 
They once were brittle mould that now are saints. 
Their weaknesse is no warrant to offend ; 5 

Learne by their faidts what in thine owne to mend. 

If Equitie's even-hand the ballance held, 

"Where Peter's siunes and ours were made the weiglits, 

Ounce for his dramme, pound for his ounce we'd yield 

His sliip would gronetofeele some sinners' freights : 10 

So ripe is Vice, so green is Vertue's bud : 

The world doth waxe in ill, but wane in good. 

This makes my mourning Muse resolue in teares, 
Tliis thcames my heauie penne to plaine in prose ; 
Christ's thorne is sharpe, no head His garland wcares ; 
Stil finest wits are 'stilling Yenvs' rose, t6 

In Paynim toyes the sweetest vainesare spent; 
To Christian workes few haue their talents lent. 

Licence my single penne to seeke a pheere ; 

You heau(Mily sparkes of wit shew natiuo light ; 20 

' In 1030 iiud hiU-r cditious, nuil repeated by Turnbull, 
this is beaded ' Rvruvs iid Eviidcm.' G. 


Cloud not with mistie loues your orient cleere, 
Sweet fliglits you shoote, learne once to leuell right. 
Fauour my wish, well-wishing workes no ill ; 
I moue the sute, the graunt rests in your Avill. 


St. ii. line 1, Tuknbull has 'Justice:' it is 'Eqwitie's' in 
1595, 1596 and 1630. 

Lines 1-4. If we read these lines as punctuated in 1596 and 
by Tuknbull, the line ' Ounce yield' must be paren- 
thetical, and the sense and sentence ends at ' freights.' But 
{meo judicio) this sense is very like non-sense, and not in South- 
well's manner. The same punctuation, viz. in 1596, a comma 
(,) after 'held,' and colon (:) after ' weights,' and comma (,) 
after ' yeeld,' and period (.) after ' freights.' Or as in Turn- 
bull, comma after ' held' and , — after ' weights,' and , — after 
' yield,' mingles metaphors, and represents one end of the bal- 
ance with its weights as in St. Peter's ship, which seems a 
somewhat ludicrous combination ; and the more so, that the 
difference of weight is given so exactly. But if we end with 
' yield' ( ; or even :), and read ' we'd yield' instead of ' we yield,' 
and then suppose that the Poet's remembrance of St. Peter's 
draught and exclamation led him on to ' His ship . . . freights (:)' 
as a second and allied thought, we get clear sense and sent- 
ences, and a stanza after Southwell's wont. I have punctuated 
accordingly, and read ' we'd.' 

Line 6. In Addl. mss. 10.422, for ' ill' the reading is 'evill,' 
on which see onward on the frequent occurrence of ' evil' for 
'ill' and its pronunciation (St. Peter's Complaint, st. ii. line 5 : 
relative note). 

St. iii. line 2, Tuknbull spoils the sense by misreading ' too' 
for ' to.' The reference in line 1 is to the Author's verse, in 
line 2 to hisin-ose, e.g. his ' Mary Magdalen's Funerall Teares.' 
' Theames'^^ gives a theme or siibject. 

Lines 4-5, on a probable allusion to Shakespeare here — 
one of several — see our Memorial-Introduction. 

St. iv. line 1, ' phere' = husband or companion : line 4, Addl. 
MSS. 10.422 reads ' fleghts ;' query ' arrows' ? G. 


Launcu forth, iny soulc, into ;i maine of teares, 

Full fraught with griefe, the trafficke of thy mind; 
Torn sailes will serue, thoughts rent with guilty fcarcs : 

Giue Care the stcrne, vse sighs in lieu of wind : 
Remorse, thy pilot ; thy misdeede thy card ; 
Torment thy hauen, ship wrack thy best reward. 

Shun not the shelfe of most deserued shame ; 

Sticke in the sands of agonizing dread ; 
Content thee to be stormes' and hillowes' game ; 

Diuorct from grace, thy soule to pennanco wed; 
Fly not from forraine euils, fly from thy hart ; 
"Worse then the worst of euils is that thou art. 

Giue vent vnto the vapours of thy hrest, 

That thicken in the brimmes of cloudie eyes ; 
Where sinne Avas liatcht, let teares now wash the nest, 

Where life was lost, recouer life with cryes. 
Thy trespassc foule, let not thy teares be few, 
Baptize thy spotted soule in weeping dew. 

12 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


Fly mournfull plaints, the ecchoes of my ruth 

"Whose screeches in my frighted conscience ring ; 

Sob out my sorrowes, fruites of mine vntruth, 
lieport the smart of sinne's infernall sting ; 

Tell hearts that languish in the sorriest plight, 

There is on Earth a farre more sorry wight. 


A sorrie wight, the object of disgrace, 

The monument of feare, the map of shame, 

The mirrou.r of mishap, the staine of place, 
The scorne of Time, the infamy of Fame, 

An excrement of Earth, to heauen hatefuU, 

Iniurious to man, to God vngratefuU. 


Ambitious heads, dreame you of Fortune's pride, 
Fill volumes with your forged goddesse' prayse ; 

You Fancie's drudges, plung'd in Follie's tide. 
Devote your fabling wits to louers' lays : 

Be you, sharpest griofes that euer wrung. 

Text to my thoughts, theame to my playning tung. 


Sad subiect of my sinne hath stoard my minde, 
With euerlasting matter of complaint ; 

My threnes an endlesse alphabet doe finde, 
Beyond the pangs AvJiich leremie doth paint. 

That eyes with errors may iust measure kecpe, 

Most teares I wish, that haue most cause to weepe. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 13 


All weeping eyes resigne your teares to me, 
A sea will scantly rince my ordur'd soiile ; 

Huge liorours in high tides must drowned be : 
Of euery teare my crime exacteth tole. 

These staiiies are deepe : few drops take out no such ; 

Euen salue with sore, and most is not too much, 


I fear'd with life, to die, by death to Hue ; 

I left my guide,— now left, and leaning God. 
To breath in blisse, I fear'd my breath to giue ; 

I fear'd for heauenly raigne an earthly rod. 
These feares I fear'd, feares feeling no mishaps : 
fond! faint! O false! faultie lapse! 


How can I Hue, that thus my Hfe deni'd 1 

What can I hope, that lost my hope in feare ? 

What trust to one, that Truth it selfe defi'd ? 

What good in him, that did his God forsweare? 

sinne of sinnes ! of euils the very worst : 

matchlesse wretch ! O catilfe most accurst ! 


Vaine in my vaunts, I vowd, if friends had fail'd, 
Alone Christ's hardest fortunes to abide : 

Giant in talke, Hke dwarfe in triall quaild : 
ExcelHng none, but in vntruth and pride. 

Such distance is betweene high words and deeds : 

In proofe, the greatest vaunter seldome speeds. 

li SAINT Peter's complaint. 


Ah, rashnes ! liastie rise to murdering leape, 
Lauisli in vowing, blind in seeing what : 

Scone sowing shames that long remorse must reape: 
Nursing with teares that ouer-sight begat ; 

Scout of Repentance, harbinger of blame. 

Treason to wisedome, mother of ill name. 


The borne-blind begger, for received sight, 

Fast in his faith and loue to Christ remain'd ; 

He stooped to no feare, he fear'd no might, 

No change his choice, no threats his truth distain'd : 

One wonder wrought him in his dutie sure, 

I, after thousands, did my Lord abiure. 


Could seruile feare of rendring Nature's due. 

Which growth in yeeres was shortly like to claim e, 

So thrall my loue, that I should thus escliue 
A vowed death, and misse so faire an aymc 1 

Die, die disloyall wretch, thy life detest : 

For sauing thine, thou hast forsworne the best. 


Ah, life ! sweet drop, drownd in a sea of sowres, 
A flying good, posting to doubtfull end. 

Still loosing months and yeeres to gaine few howres : 
Faine, time to haue and spare, yet forc't to spend : 

Thy growth, decrease ; a moment all thou hast : 

That gone, ere knowne; the rest, to come, or past. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 15 


Ah, life ! the maze of countlesse straying waies, — 
Open to erring steps and strew'd with baits,— 

To winde weake senses into endlesse strayes, 

Aloofe from Vertue's rough, vnbeaten straights; 

A flower, a play, a blast, a shade, a dreame, 

A lining death, a never-turning streame. 


And could I rate so high a life so base ? 

Did feare with loue cast so vneven account, 
That for this goale I should runne ludas' race. 

And Caiphas' rage in crueltie surmount 1 
Yet they esteemed tliirtie pence His price ; 
I, worse then both, for nought denyd Him thrice. Mat. 20. 


The mother-sea, from ouerflowing deepes. 

Sends forth her issue by diuided vaines. 
Yet back her ofspring to their mother creepes. 

To pay their purest streames with added gaines ; 
But I, that drunke the drops of heauenly find, 
Bemyr'd the Giuer with returning mud. 


Is this the haruest of His sowing-toy le 1 

Did Christ manure thy heart to breede Him briers 1 

Or doth it neede, this vnaccustom'd soyle, 

With hellish dung to fertile heauen's desires ? 

ISTo, no, the marie that periuries do yeeld. 

May spoyle a good, not fat a barraine field. 

IG SAINT Peter's complaint. 

Was this for best deserts the duest nieede 1 

Are highest worths well wag'd with spitefull hire 1 

Are stoutest vowes repeal'd in greatest neede 1 
Should friendship, at the first affront, retire 1 

Blush, crauen sot, lurke in eternall night ; 

Crouch in the darkest caves from loathed light. 


Mat. 16. Ah, wretch ! why was I nam'd sonne of a done. 

Whose speeches voyded spiglit and breathed gall ? 
No kin I am unto the bird of loue : 

My stonie name much better siites my fall : 
My othes were stones, my cruell tongue the sling. 
My God the mark at which my spight did fling. 


Were all the Jewish tyranies too few 

To glut thy hungrie lookes with His disgrace 1 

That thou more hatefuU tyrannies must shew. 
And spet thy poyson in thy Maker's face 1 

Didst thou to spare His foes put vp thy sword, 
loiiii iG. To brandish now thy tongue against thy Lord 1 


Ah ! tongue, that didst His prayse and Godhead sound. 
How wert thou stain'd with such detesting Avords, 

That euerie word was to His heart a wound. 

And launct Him deeper then a thousand swords? 

What rage of man, yea what infernall spirit, 

Could haue disgorg'd more loathsome dregs of spite 1 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 17 


Why did the j'eelding sea, like marble way, Mat. u. 

Support a wretch more wauering then the wauesl 
Whom doubt did plunge, why did the waters stay 1 

Vnkind in kindnesse, murthering while it saues : 
Oh that this tongue had then been fishes' food, 
And I deuour'd, before this cursing mood ! 


There surges, depths and seas, vnfirmo by kind, 

Rough gusts, and distance both from ship and shoare. 

Were titles to excuse my staggering mind ; 

Stout feet might falter on that liquid floare : 

But heer no seas, no blasts, no billowes were, 

A puffe of woman's wind bred all my feare. 


coward troups, far better arm'd then harted ! 

Whom angrie words, whom blowescouldnotprouoke; lohn is. 
Whom thogh I taught how sore my weapon smarted. 

Yet none repaide me with a wounding stroke. 
Oh no ! that stroke could but one moity kill ; 

1 was reseru'd both halfes at once to spill. 


Ah ! whether was forgotten loue exil'd ? 

Where did the truth of pledged promise sleepel 
What in my thoughts begat this vgly child, 

That could through rented soule thus fiercely creepe? 
O viper, feare their death by Avhom thou liuest; 
All good thy ruine's wreck, all euils thou giucst. 

-^g SAINT Peter's complaint. 


Threats threw me not, torments I none assayd : 

My fray Avith shades ; conceits did make me yeeld, 

Wounding my thoughts with feares ; selfely dismayd, 
I neither fought nor lost, I gaue the field : 

Infamous foyle ! a maiden's easie breath 

Did blow me downe, and blast my soule to death. 


Mat. 16. Titles I make vntruths : am I a rucke, 

That with so soft a gale was ouerthrowne ? 
Am I fit pastor for the faithfuU flocke, 

To guide their soules that murdred thus mine owne 1 
Mark 9. A rockc of ruiue, not a rest to stay, 
A pastor, not to feede but to betray. 


Fidelitie was flowne, when feare was hatched, 

Incompatible brood in Vertue's neast : 
Courage can lesse with cowardise be matched, 
Prowesse nor loue lodg'd in diuided breast. 
Adam's child, cast by a sillie Eue, 
Heire to thy father's foyles, and borne to grieue ! 


Mat 17 In Thabor's ioyes I eger was to dwell : 
Mat! 11: An earnest friend while pleasures' light did shine, 
But when eclipsed glorie prostrate fell, 

These zealous heates to sleepe I did resigne ; 
And now, my mouth hath thrise His name defil'd. 
That cry'd so londe three dwellings there to builde. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 19 


When Christ, attending the distressefull hovver, 

With His surchargM breast did blesse the ground, 

Prostrate in pangs, rayning a bleeding shower, 
Me, like myselfe, a drowsie friend He found. 

Thrice, in His care, sleepe clos'd my carelesse eye ; 

Presage how Him my tongue should thrise denie. 


Parted from Christ, my fainting force declin'd, 
With lingring foot I followed Him aloofe ; 
Base feare out of my hart His love vnshrin'd : Mark u. 

TT • 1 • 1 11- • n Luke 22. 

Huge in high words, but impotent m proofe, 
My vaunts did seeme hatcht vnder Sampson's locks. 
Yet woman's words did giue me murdring knocks. 


So farre lukewarm desires in crasie loue, 

Farre off, in neede with feeble foote they traine ; 

In tydes they swim, low ebbes they scorne to proue ; 
They seeke their frienrls' delights, but shun their 

Hire of a hireling minde is earned shame : [paine : 

Take now thy due, beare thy begotten blame. 


Ah, coole remisnes ! Virtue's quartane feuer, 

Pyning of loue, consumption of grace ; 
Old in the cradle, languor dying euer, 

Soule's wilfull famine, sinne's soft-stealing pase ; 
The vndermining euill of zealous thought, 
Seeming to bring no harmes, till all be brought. 

20 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


lohn 18. portresse of the doore of my disgrace, 

Whose tongue vnlockt the truth of vowed minde ; 
Whose words from coward's hart did courage chase, 
And let in deathfull feares my soule to blinde ; 
O hadst thou been the portresse to my toome. 
When thou wert portresse to that cursed roome ! 


Yet loue was loath to part, feare loath to die ; 

Stay, danger, life, did counterplead their causes; 
I, fauouring stay and life, bad danger flie, 

But danger did except against these clauses : 
Yet stay and Hue I would, and danger shunne, 
And lost myseKe while I my verdict wonne. 


I stayde, yet did my staying farthest part ; 

I liv'd, but so, that sauing life, I lost it ; 
Danger I shunn'd, but to my sorer smart ; 

I gayned nought, but deeper damage crost it. 
What danger, distance, death, is worse then his 
That runnes from God and spoyles his soule of blisse 1 


lohn 18, O lohn, my guide unto this earthly hell, 
Too well acquainted in so ill a Court, 
(Where raylmg mouthes with blasphemies did swell. 

With taynted breath infecting all resort,) 
Why didst thou lead me to this hell of euils. 
To shew my self e a fiend among the deuils ? 

V. 16. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 21 


Euill president ! the tyde that wafts to vice ; 

Dumme orator, that wooes with silent deeds, 
"Writing in works lessons of ill aduise ; 

The doing-tale that eye in practise reedes ; 
Taster of ioyes to vnacquainted hunger, 
With leauen of the old seasoning the younger. 


It seemes no fault to doe that all haue done ; 

The number of offenders hides the sinne ; 
Coach drawne with many horse, doth easely runne, 

Soone followeth one where multitudes beginne. 
O had I in that Court much stronger bin, 
Or not so strong as first to enter in. 


Sharpe was the weather in that stormie place. 
Best suting hearts benumd with hellish frost, 

Whose crusted malice could admitte no grace : 

Where coales were kindled to the warmers' cost ; 

Where feare my thoughts canded with ysie cold, 

Heate did my tongue to periuries vnfold. 


O hateful fire (ah ! that I euer saw it) ! 

Too hard my hart was frozen for thy force ; 
Farre hotter flames it did require to thaw it, 

Thy hell-resembling heate did freeze it worse. 
that I rather had congeal'd to yse, 
Then bought thy warmth at such a damning price ! 

22 SAINT Peter's compLxMnt. 


Mat. 26. wakefull bird ! proclaimer of the day, 

Mark H. 

Whose pearcing note doth daunt the lion's rage ; 
Thy crowing did myselfe to me be\vray, 

My frights and brutish heates it did asswage : 
But in this alone, vnhappy cocke, 
That thou to count my foyles wert made the clocke ! 


O bird ! the iust rebuker of my crime, 

The faithfull waker of my sleeping feares, 

Be now the daily clocke to strike the time, 

Wlien stinted eyes shall pay their taske of teares ; 

Vpbraide mine eares with thine accusing crowe, 

To make me rew that first it made me knowe. 


milde Eeuenger of aspiring pride ! 

Thou canst dismomit high thoughts to low effects ; 
Thou mad'st a cocke me for my fault to chide, 

My lofty boasts this lowely bird corrects. 
Well might a cocke correct me with a crowe. 
Whom hennish cackling first did ouerthrowe. 


1 Reg. 17. Weake weapons did Goliah's fumes abate. 

Whose storming rage did thunder threats in vaine ; 
His bodie huge, harnest with massie plate, 

Yet Dauid's stone brought death into his braine : 
With staff and sling as to a dog he came. 
And with contempt did boasting furie tame. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 23 


Yet Dauid had with beare and lyon fought, 

His skilful might excus'd Goliah's foile : 
The death is eas'd that worthy hand hath wrought, 

Some honour lives in honourable spoyle ; 
But I, on whom all infamies must light, 
Was hist to death with words of woman's spight. 


Small gnats enforst th' Egyptian king to stoupe, 

Yet they in swarmes, and arm'd with pearcing stings ; Exod. 8. 

Smart, noyse, annoyance, made his courage droupe ; 
No small incombrance such small vermine brings : 

I quaild at words that neither bit nor stung. 

And those deliuered from a woman's tongue. 


Ah, Feare ! abortiue impe of drouping mind ; 

Selfe-ouerthrow, false friend, roote of remorse : 
Sighted, in seeing euils ; in shunning blind : 

Foil'd without field, by fancie not by force ; 
Ague of valour ; phrensie of the wise ; 
True honour's staine ; loue's frost, the mint of lies. 


Can vertue, wisdome, strength, by women spild 

In Dauid's, Salomon's, and Samson's falls. 
With semblance of excuse my errour gild, 

Or lend a marble glosse to muddy walls? 2Rcff.ii. 

O no ! their fault had shew of some pretence : Ldgf le!' 

No veyle can hide the shame of my offence. 

24 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


The blaze of beautie's beames allur'd their lookes ; 

Their lookes, by seeing oft, conceiued loue ; 
Loue, by affecting, swallowed pleasure's hookes ; 

Thus beautie, loue, and pleasure them did moue. 
These Syrens' sugred tunes rockt them asleepe : 
Enough to damne, yet not to damne so deepe. 


But gracious features dazled not mine eyes ; 

Two homely droyles were authors of my death ; 
Not loue, but feare, my senses did surprize : 

Not feare of force, but feare of woman's- breath ; 
And those vnarm'd, ill grac't, despis'd, vnknowne : 
So base a blast my truth hath ouerthrowne. 


O women ! woe to men ; traps for their falls ; 

Still actors in all tragicall mischances ; 
Earth's necessarie euils, captiuing thralls, [glances ; 

Now murdring with your toungs, now with your 
Parents of life, and loue, spoylers of both. 
The theeues of harts ; false do you lone or loth. 


In time, Lord ! Thine eyes with mine did meete, 
Luke 22. In them I read the mines of my fall ; 

Their chearing rayes, that made misfortune sweet. 
Into my guiltie thoughts pourd floods of gall : 
Their heauenly looks, that blest where they beheld, 
Darts of disdaine and angrie checks did yeeld. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 25 


sacred eyes ! the springs of lining light, 

The earthly heauens where angels ioy to dwell, 

How could you deigne to view my deathfull plight, 
Or let your heauenly beanies look on my hell t 

But those vnspotted eyes encountred mine. 

As spotlesse sunne doth on the dunghil shine. 


Sweet volumes, stoard with learning fit for saints, 
Where blissfull quires imparadize their minds; 

Wherein eternall studie neuer faints. 

Still finding all, yet seeking all it finds : 

How endlesse is your labyrinth of blisse, 

^VTiere to be lost the sweetest finding is ! 


Ah wretch ! how oft haue I sweet lessons read 
In those deare eyes, the registers of truth ! 

How oft haue I my hungrie wishes fed. 

And in their happy ioyes redrest my rutli ! 

Ah ! that they now are heralds of disdaine, 

That erst were euer pittiers of my paino ! 


You flames diuine, tliat sparkle out your heats, 
And kindle pleasing fires in mortall harts ; 

You nectar'd aumbryes of soule-feeding meates ; 
You gracefull quiuers of loiie's dearest darts ; 

You did vouchsafe to Avarme, to wound, to feast. 

My cold, my stony, my noAv famisht breast. 


26 SAINT petek's complaint. 


Tlie matchlesse eyes, matcht onely each by other, 
Were pleas'd on my ill matched eyes to glaimce ; 

The eye of liquid pearle, the purest mother, 

Broach't teares in mine to weepe for my mischance; 

The cabinets of grace vnlockt their treasure, 

And did to my misdeed their mercies measure. 


These blazing comets, light'ning flames of loue, 
Made me their warming influence to knowe ; 

My frozen hart their sacred force did proue. 

Which at their looks did yeeld like melting snowe : 

They did not ioyes in former plentie carue. 

Yet sweet are crums where pined thoughts doe starue. 


lining mirrours ! seeing Whom you shew, 

Which equal shadows worths with shadowed things, 
Yea, make things nobler tlien in natiue hew, 

By being shap't in those life-giuing springs ; 
Much more my image in those eyes was grac't, 
Then in myselfe, whom sinne and shame defac't. 

All-seeing eyes, more worth then all you see, 

Of which one is the other's onely price ; 

1 worthlesse am, direct your beames on mee. 

With quickning vertue cure my killing vice. 
By seeing things, you make things worth the sight, 
You seeing, salue, and being seene, delight ! 

y. 3. 

SAINT feter's complaint. 27 


O pooles of Hesebon ; the baths of grace, 

Where happie spirits cliue in sweet desires, cant. 7, 

Where saints reioyce to glasse their glorious face. 

Whose banks make eccho to the angels' quires ; 
An eccho sweeter in the sole rebound, 
Then angels' musick in the fullest sound ! 


O eyes ! whose glaunces are a silent speach. 
In cipherd words high mysteries disclosing ; 

Which, with a looke, all sciences can teach, 

Whose textes to faithfuU harts need little glosing ; 

Witnesse vnworthie I, who in a looke 

Learn'd more by rote, then all the Scribes by book. 


Though malice still possest their hardned minds, 
I, though too hard, learn'd softnes in Thine eye, 

Which yron knots of stubborne will vnbinds, 

Oflfring them loue, that loue with loue wil buy. 

This did I learne, yet they could not discerne it ; 

But woe, that I had now such neede to learne it ! 


suunes ! all but youi'selues in Hght excelling, 

Whose presence, day, whose absence causeth night ; 

Whose neighbour-course brings Sommer, cold expelling. 
Whose distant periods freeze away delight. 

Ah ! that I lost your bright and fostring beames, 

To plung my soule in these congealed streames ! 

28 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


O gratious spheres ! where loue the center is, 
A natiue place for our selfe-loaden soules ; 

The couipasse, loue, — a cope that none can mis, 
The motion, loue, — that round about vs rowles : 

spheres of loue, whose center, cope, and motion. 

Is loue of us, loue that inuites deuotion ! 


little worlds ! the summes of all the best, 

Where glorie, heauen; God,sunne; allvertues, stars; 
Where fire, — a loue that next to heauen doth rest ; 

Ayre, — light of life that no distemper marres ; 
The water, — grace, whose seas, whose springs, whose 
Cloth Nature's earth with euerlasting flowers, [showers, 


What mixtures these sweet elements do yeeld, 

Let happie worldlings of these worlds expound ; 
Best simples are by compounds farre exceld, 

Both sute a place where all best things abound ; 
And if a banisht wretch ghesse not amisse. 
All but one compound frame of perfect blisse ! 


I, out-cast from these worlds, exUM rome ; 

Poore saint, from heauen, from tire, cold salamander. 
Lost fish, from those sweet waters' kindly home, 

From land of life stray'd pilgrim still I Avander. 

1 know the cause : these worlds had neuer hell. 
In which my faults haue liest deseru'd to dwell. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 29 


Betlielem-cestems ! Dauid's most desire, 2neg.2a. 

From which my sinnes like fierce Philistims keep ; 
To fetch your drops what champion should I hire, 
That I therein my Avithered hart may steepe 1 

1 would not shed them like that holy king : 
His were but types, these are the figured thing. 


O turtle-twins ! all bath'd in virgins milke, ^ant 5 v 

Vpon the margin of full-flowing banks, "' ^^• 

Whose gracefidl plume surmounts the finest silke, 
Whose sight enamoureth heauen's most happy ranks : 

Could I forsweare this heauenly payre of doues, 

That cag'd in care, for me were groning loues ! 


Twise Moses' wand did strike the stubborne rock, ^^^ j^ 

Ere stony veynes would yeeld their crystall blood; ■''•*^- 

Thine eyes' one looke seru'd as an onely knocke. 
To make my hart gush out a weeping flood ; 

"Wlierein my sinnes, as fishes, spawne their frie, 

To shew their inward shames, and then to die. 

LXXV. • 

But how long demurre I on His eyes ! 

Whose look did pearce my hart with healing wound, 
Launcing imposthumd sore of periur'd lyes, 

Which these two issues of mine eyes have found ; 
Where rimne it must, till death the issues stop, 
iVnd penall life hath piu-g'd the finall drop. 

30 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


Like solest swan, that swims in silent deepe, 
And neuer sings but obsequies of death ; 

Sigh 'out thy plaints, and sole in secret weepe, 
In suing pardon, spend thy periur'd breath ; 

Attire thy soul in sorrowe's mourning weede, 

And at thine eyes let guiltie conscience bleede. 


'Still in the limbecke of thy dolefull brest 

These bitter fruits that from thy sinnes doe grow; 

For fuell, selfe-accusing thoughts be best ; 

Vse feare as fire, the coals let penance blow ; 

And seeke none other quintessence but teares, 

That eyes may shed what entred at thine eares. 


Come sorrowing teares, the ofspring of my griefe, 
Scant not your parent of a needfull ayde ; 

In you I rest the hope of wisht rehefe, 

By you my sinnefuU debts must be defrayd : 

Your power preuailes, your sacrifice is gratefidl. 

By loue obtaining life to men most hatefull. 


Come good effects of iU-deseruing cause. 

Ill-gotten imi^es, yet vertuously brought forth ; 

Selfe-blaming probates of infringed lawes, 

Yet blamed faults redeeming with your worth; 

The signes of shame in you each eye may read, 

Yet, while you guiltie proue, you pittie plead. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 31 


beames of mercie ! beate on sorrowe's clowd, 

Poure suppling showres vpon my parched ground; 

Bring forth, the fruite to your due seruice vowde, 
Let good desires with like deserts be crownd : 

Water young blooming Vertue's tender flower, 

Sinne did all grace of riper growth deuoure. 


Weepe balme and myrrhe, you sweet Arabian trees, 
With purest gummes perfume and pearle your ryne ; 

Shed on your honey-drops, you busie bees ; 

I, barraine plant, must weepe vnpleasant bryne, 

Hornets I hyue, salt drops their labour plyes, 

Suckt out of sinne, and shed by showring eyes, 


If Dauid, night by night, did bathe his bed. 
Esteeming longest dayes too short to mone ; 

Inconsolable teares if Anna shed, 

Who in her sonne her solace had forgone ; 

Then I to dayes and weekes, to monthes and yeeres, 

Do owe the hourely rent of stintless teares. 


If loue, if losse, if fault, if spotted fame. 

If danger, death, if wrath, or wreck of weale, 

Entitle eyes true heyres to earned blame, 
That due remorse in such euents conceale 

Then want of teares might well enroll my name, 

As chiefest saint in calender of shame. 

Ps. 6, V.7. 

32 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


Loue, where I lou'd, Avas due, and best deseru'd ; 

No loue could aynie at more loue- worthy niarke ; 
IS'o loue more lou'd then mine of Hhn I seru'd ; 

Large vse He gaue, a flame for euerie sparke. 
This loue I lost, this losse a life must rue ; 
Yea, life is short to pay the ruth is due. 


I lost all that I had, who had the most, 

The most that will can wish, or wit deuise : 

I least perform'd, that did most vainely boast, 
I staynd my fame in most infamous wise. 

What danger then, death, Avrath, or wreck can moue 

More pregnant cause of teares tlien this I proue 1 


G«n. 3,v. 7. If Adam sought a veyle to scarfe liis sinne, 

Taught by his fall to feare a scourging hand ; 
If men shall wish that hils should wrap them in. 

When crimes in finall doome come to be scand ; 
Wliat mount, what caue, what center can conceale 
]\Iy monstrous fact, which euen the birds reueale ? 


Come shame, the liuerie of offending minde. 

The vgly shroude that ouershadoweth blame ; 

The mulct at which foule faults are iustly fin'd ; 
The dampe of sinne, the common sluce of fame. 

By which iniposthum'd tongues their humours purge ; 

Light shame on me, I best deserue the scourge. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 33 


Caine's murdering liand imbrudc in brother's blood, <!<'ii. 4. 

More mercy then my im])ious tongue may craue ; 
He kild a riuall with pretence of good, 

In hope God's doubled lone alone to haue. 
But feare so spoyld my vanquisht thoughts of louo, 
That periurde oathes my spightfull hate did prone. 


Poore Agar from her pheere enforc't to flye, 

Wandring in Bersabeian wildes alone. 
Doubting her child throgh helj)les drought would die, 

Layd it aloofe, and set her downe to moane : 
The heauens with prayers, her lap with teares she fild ; 
A mother's loue in losse is hardly stild. 

But Agar, now bequeath thy teares to me ; 

Feares, not effects, did set afloate thine eyes. cion. 2-.>. 

But, wretch, I feele more then was feard of thee ; 

Ah ! not my sonne, my soule it is that dyes. 
It dyes for drought, yet hath a spring in sight : 
Worthie to die, that would not line, and might. 

Faire Absalon's foule faults, compar'd with mine, 2 ncs. 1 : 

Are brightest sands to mud of Sodome Lakes ; 
High aymes, yong spirits, birth of royall line. 

Made him play false where kingdoms were the stakes : 
He gaz'd on golden hopes, whose lustre winnes, 
Sometime the grauest wits to greeuous sinnes. 



But I, whose crime cuts off the least excuse, 
A l^ingdome lost, but hop't no mite of gaine ; 

My highest marke was but the wortlxlesse vse 
Of some few lingring howres of longer paine. 

Vngratefull child, his parent he pursude, 

I, gyants' warre with God Himselfe renude. 


Mat. 22. loy, infant saints, whom in the tender flower 

A happie storm did free from feare of sinne ! 
Long is their life that die in bhsfull hower ; 

loyfull such ends as endlesse ioyes begin : 
Too long they Hue that Hue till they be nought : 
Life sau'd by sinne, base purchase dearely bought ! 

This lot was mine ; your fate was not so fearce. 

Whom spotlesse death in cradle rockt asleepe ; 
Sweet roses, mixt with lilies, strow'd your hearce. 

Death virgin-white in martyrs' red did steepe ; 
Your downy heads, both pearles and rubies crownd 
My boarie locks, did female feares confound. 

You bleating ewes,— that wayle this woluish spoyle 

Of sucking lambs new-bought with bitter throwes,— 
T' inbalme your babes your eyes distill their oyle, 

Each hart to tombe her child wide rupture showes 
Itue not their death, whom death did but reuiut>,, 
Yeeld ruth to me that liu'd to die aliue. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 35 

With easie losse sharpe wrecks did he escliew, 

That sindonlesso aside did naked slip : 
Once naked grace no outward garment knew ; 

Eiche are his robes whom sinne did neuer strip. 
1, that in vaunts, displaid Pride's fayrest flags, 
Disrob'd of grace, am wrapp'd in Adam's rags. 


When, traytor to the Sonne in mother's eyes 
I shall present my humble sute for grace, 

Wliat blush can paint the shame that will arise, 
Or write my inward feelings on my face ? 

Might she the sorrow with the sinner see, 

Though I despisde, my griefe might pittied bee ! 


But ah ! how can her eares my speech endure. 

Or sent my breath, still reeking hellish steeme 1 

Can Mother like what did the Sonne abiure, 
Or hart deflowr'd a virgin's love redeeme ? 

The mother nothing loues that Sonne doth loath : 

Ah, lothsome wretch ! detested of them both. 

sister nymphes, the sweet renowned payre. 

That blesse Bethania bounds, with your aboade ! 
Shall I infect that sanctifikl ayre, 

Or staine those steps where lesus breath'd and trode? 
No ; let your prayers perfume that sweetned place ; 
Turne me with tygers to the wildest chase. 



loim 11. Could I reuiued Lazarus behold, 

The third orf that sweet trinitie of saints, 
Would not astonisht dread my senses hold 1 

Ah yes ! my hart euen with his naming, faints : 
I seeme to see a messenger from hell, 
That my prepared torments comes to tell. 


Mat. 16. John ! James ! wee made a triple cord 

Of three most loumg and best loucd friends ; 
My rotten twist was broken with a word, 
Fit now to fuell fire among the fiends. 
It is not euer true though often spoken. 
That triple-twisted cord is hardly broken. 


The dispossessed devils, that out I threw 

In Jesvs' name, — now impiously forsworne, — 

Triumph to see me caged in their mew. 

Trampling my mines with contempt and scorne : 

My periuries were musick to their daunce, 

And now they heape disdaines on my mischaunce. 

Our rocke (say they) is riuen ; welcome howre ! 

Our eagle's wings are dipt that wrought so hie ; raught 
Our thundring cloude made noyse, but cast no showre : 

He prostrate lyes that would hane scal'd the skio; 
In woman's tongue our runner found a rub. 
Our cedar now is shrunke into a shrub. 



These scornefuU words vpbraid my inward thought, 
Proofes of their damned prompters' neighbour-voice : 

Such vgly guests still wait vpon the nought : 

Fiends swarm to soules that swaruc from Vertue's 

For breach of plighted truth this true I trie ; [choise : 

Ah, that my deed thus gaue my word the lie ! 

Once, and but once, too deare a once to twice it ! 

A heauen in earth, saints neere myselfe I saw : 
Sweet was the sight, but sweeter loues did spice it, 

But sights and loues did my misdeed withdraw. 
From heauen and saints, to hell and deuils estrang'd, 
Those sights to frights, those loues to hates are chang'd. 

Christ, as my God, was templed in my thought. 

As man, He lent mine eyes their dearest light ; 
But sinne His temple hath to ruine brought. 

And now He lighteneth terrour from His sight. 
Now of my lay vnconsecrate desires. 
Profaned wretch ! I taste the earnest hires. 

Ah, sinne ! the nothing that doth all things file, defile 

Outcast from heauen, Earth's curse, the cause of hell; 
Parent of death, author of our exile. 

The Avrecke of soules, the wares that fiends doe sell ; 
That men to monsters, angels turnes to deuils, 
Wrong of all rights, self-ruine, roote of euils. 

38 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


A thing most done, yet more then God can doe ; 

Daily new done, yet euer done amisse ; 
Friended of all, yet nnto all a foe ; 

Seeming a lieauen, yet banishing from blisse ; 
Serued with toyl, yet paying nought but paine, 
Man's deepest losse, though false-esteemed gaine. 


Shot, without noyse ; wound, without present smart ; 

First, seeming light, prouing in fine a lode ; 
Entring with ease, not easily wonne to part. 

Far, in effects from that the showes abode ; 
Endorct with hope, subscribed with despaire, 
Vgly in death, though life did faine it faire. 

0, forfeiture of heauen ! eternall debt, 

A moment's ioy ending in endlesse fires ; 
Our nature's scum, the world's entangling net, 

Night of our thoughts, death of all good desires : 
Worse then al this, worse then all tongues can say ; 
Which man could owe, but onely God defray. 


This fawning viper, dum till he had wounded, 

With many mouthes doth now vpbraid my harnies ; 

My sight Avas vaild till I myselfe confounded. 
Then did I see the disinchanted charmes : 

Then could I cut th' anatomic of sinne. 

And search with linxes' eyes what lay within. 

8AINT Peter's complaint. 39 

ex 1 1. 
Bewitcliing euill, that liides deatli in deceits, 

Still borrowing lying shapes to maskc thy face, 
Now know I the deciphring of thy sleights ; 

A cunning, dearely bought with losse of grace : 
Thy sugred poyson now hath wrought so well. 
That thou hast made me to myselfe a hell. 


My eye, reades mournfull lessons to my hart. 

My hart, doth to my thought the greefes expound ; 
My thought, the same doth to my tongue impart, 

My tongue, the message in the eares doth sound ; 
My eares, back to my hart their sorrowes send ; 
Thus circling griefes runne round without an end. 

My guiltie eye still seemes to see my sinne. 

All things characters are to spell my fall ; 
What eye doth read without, hart rues within, 

What hart doth rue, to pensiue thought is gall. 
Which when the thought would by the tongue digest, 
The eare conueyes it backe into the brest. 

Thus gripes in all my parts doe neuer fayle, 

Whose onely league is now in bartring paines ; 
What I ingrosse they traffique by retayle. 

Making each others' miseries theu' gaines : 
All bound for euer prentices to care. 
Whilst I in shop of shame trade sorrowe's ware. 



Pleasd with displeasing lot, I seek no change ; 

I wealthiest am when richest in remorse ; 
To fetch my ware no seas nor lands I range ; 

For customers to buy I nothing force : 
My home-bred goods at home are bought and sold, 
And still in me my interest I hold. 


My comfort now is comfortlesse to Hue 

In orphan state, denoted to mishap : 
Eent from the roote that sweetest fruite did giue, 

1 scorn'd to graffe in stock of meaner sap ; 
No iuyce can ioy me but of lesse floAver, 
Whose heavenly roote hath true reuiuing power. 


At Sorrowe's dore I knockt : they crau'd my name : 

I aunswered, one unworthy to be knowne : 
What one 1 say they. One worthiest of blame. 

But who 1 A wretch, not God's, nor yet his oAvne. 
A man 1 O no ! a beast ; much worse : what creature 1 
A rocke : how call'd ? The rocke of scandale, Peter ! 

cxix. [there ? 

From whence 1 From Caiaphas' house. Ah ! dwell you 

Sinne's farme I rented there, bvit now would leaue it. 
Wliat rent 1 My soule. What gaine 1 Vnrest, and feare. 

Deare purchase ! Ah, too dear ! will you receiue it? 
What shall we giue 1 Fit teares and times to plaine mee : 
Come in, say they : Thus Griefes did entertaine me. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 41 

With them I rest true prisoner in their layle, 

Cliayn'd in the yron linkes of basest thrall ; 
Till (Irace, vouchsafing captiue soule to bayle, 

In wonted See degraded loues enstall. 
Dayes pass in plaints, the night without repose ; 
I wake to weepe, I sleepe in waking-woes. 

Sleepe, Death's allye, obliuion of teares, 

Silence of passions, balme of angry sore, 
Suspence of loues, securitie of feares, 

Wrath's lenitue, heart's ease, storme's calmest shore; 
Senses' and soules' reprieuall from all cumbers, 
Benumning sense of ill, with quiet slumbers ! 


Not such my sleepe, but whisperer of dreames. 
Creating strange chymeras, fayning frights ; 

Of day-discourses giuing fansie theames, 

To make dum-shewes with worlds of anticke sights; 

Casting true griefes in fansie's forging mold, 

Brokenly telling tales rightly foretold. 


This sleepe most fitly suteth Sorrowe's bed. 

Sorrow, the smart of euill, Sinne's eldest child ; 

Best, when vnkind in killing who it bred ; 
A racke for guiltie thoughts, a bit for Avild ; 

The scourge that whips, the salue that cures offence : 

Sorrow, my bed and home, while life hath sense. 


42 SAINT Peter's complaint. 

Here solitarie Muses nurse my griefes, 

In silent lonenesse burying worldly noyse ; 
Attentiue to rebukes, deafe to reliefes, 

Pensiue to foster cares, carelesse of ioyes ; 
Euing life's losse, vnder death's dreary roofes 
Solemnizing my funerall behoofes. 

A selfe-contempt the shroude, my soule the corse. 

The beere, an humble hojie, the herse-cloth, feare ; 
The mourners, thoughts, in blacks of deepe remorse. 

The herse, grace, pitie, loue and mercie beare : 
My teares, my dole, the priest, a zealous will, 
Penance, the tombe, and dolefull sighes the knill. 

Christ ! health of feuer'd soule, heauen of the mind. 

Force of the feeble, nurse of infant loues. 
Guide to the wandring foote, light to the blind, 

Whom weeping winnes, repentant sorrow moues ; 
Father in care, mother in tender hart, 
Keuiue and saue me, slaine with sinnefull dart ! 


If King Manasses, sunke in depth of sinne, 

AVith plaints and teares recouered grace and crowne : 

A worthless worme some mild regard may winne, 
And lowly creepe, where flying threw it downe. 

A poore desire I haue to mend my ill, 

1 sliould, I would, I dare not say, I will. 



I dare not say, I will, but wish I may; 

My pride is checkt, high words the speaker spilt. 
My good, Lord, Thy gift. Thy strength my stay ! 

Give what Thou bidst, and then bid what Thou wilt. 
Worke with me what Thou of me doos't request, 
Then will I dare the most and vow the best. 

Prone looke, crost armes, bent knee and contrite hart, 

Deepe sighs, thick sobs, dew'd eyes and prostrate 
Most humbly beg release of earned smart, [prayers, 

And sauiug shroud in Mercie's sweet repaires. 
If iustice should my wrongs with rigor wage, 
Feares Avould despaires, ruth, breed a hopelesse rage. 

Lazar at Pitie's gate I vlcer'd lye, 

Craning the reffuse crums of childrens' plate ; 
My sores I lay in view to Mercie's eye, 

My rags beares witnes of my poore estate : 
The wormes of conscience that within me swarme, 
Prone that my plaints are lesse then is my harme. 

With mildnes, lesu, measure mine offence ; 

Let true remorse Thy due reuenge abate ; 
Let teares appease when trespasse doth incense ; 

Let pittie temper Thy deserued hate ; 
Let grace forgiue, let loue forget my fall : 
With feare I craue, with hope I humblie call. 

44 SAINT Peter's complaint. 


Eedeeme my lapse with raunsome of Thy loue, 
Traiierse th' inditenient, rigor's doome suspend ; 

Let frailtie fauour, sorrowes succour moue, 

Be I'Jiou Thyselfe, though changeling I oflfend. 

Tender my sute, cleanse this defiled denne, 

Cancell my debts, sweet lesu, say Amen ! 

The ende of Saint Peter's Complaint. 


St. i. line 1, maine = sea. Addl. ms. 10.422 spells 'maigue.' 
Line 4. Turnbdll modernises ' in lieu' into ' instead.' 
,, 5. Card. Some have said that the ' card' or carta is a 
chart, others that it is the ' card' of the mariner's compass, 
and hence piit for the comiiass itself. While, however, the 
former sense, or rather that of map, is the more usual, there 
are passages which demand some one, and some the other, of 
these senses, and Halliwell is right in gi\Ting both. In Florio's 
World of Words (1611) we find ' Carta ; any paper, a leafe of a 
book. Also a carde, a map. Also a plaing card. Also &c.' 
Other dictionaries give the same, and Carte marine, Carta da 
nauicdrc (Fl.), Carta de marear (Minsheu), a sailing or sea-card. 
Sometimes, of course, the determinative adjective is omitted, 
as in Sylvester's translation of Du Bartas, quoted by Dyce in 
his Shakespeare Glossary : 

' Sure, if my card and compass doe not fail 
Ware neer the Port.' (The Triumph of Faith.) 

Here the original is ' mon Quadi-ant et ma Carte marine,' and 
' quadrant' answers to ' compass ;' for though Quadi-ant is not 
found in Cotgkave, yet Boussole is given as ' a Pilot's Dyall, 
Compass, or Quadrant.' See also quotations from Halduyt 
and Sir H. Mainwaring in Hunter's New Illustrations of Shake- 
speare. On the other hand, though I cannot find that the word 
is used for the card of the compass or compass itself, in Italian, 
French, or Spanish, or that it has these meanings attached to 
it in any English dictionary, or in the English part of any die- 

SAiXT Peter's complaint. 45 

tiouary, yet there are passages which admit of no other. Nares 

quotes from Beaumont and Fletcher's Chances (i. 11), 

' We're all like sea cards, 
All our endeavours and our motions, 
As they do to the north, still point at beauty.' 

And in Fletcher's Loyal Subject we find (iii. 2), 

' I send ye 

With your own virtues season'd and my prayers ; 
The card of goodness in your minds, that shews ye 
Wlien ye sail false ; the needle touched with honour. 
That through the blackest storms still points at happiness. 
Your bodies,' Sac. 

And elsewhere, in Southwell (' Our Ladle's Natiuitye'), 

' Loadstarr of all engolfd in woi'ldly wanes. 
The card and compasse tliat fi'om shipwracke saves ;' 

where the allusion to one person, the determining context 
' loadstar,' and the verb in the singular, show that the words 
mean the compass -card and needle. In some passages the 
author's meaning may be doubtful ; as in Macbeth, i. 3, though 
from the word ' ports,' I am inclined to think that the seaman's 
card is his chart ; and this will appear, if, as perhaps we ought 
to do with the text, we transpose the two lines ending ' blow' 
and ' know.' It may also be doubtful in the present instance ; 
but as the misdeed is not so much a chart of his haven, or of 
the places to be avoided, or of his course, as the standing con- 
stant guide pointing to torment, his haven, and as ' card' is 
used by our i)oet, as above in ' Our Ladle's Natiuitye,' as the 
compass-card, so I believe it to be the same here. In Hamlet's 
' speak by the card' the word is used in a third and very different 

St. ii. line 1, shclfe = a ledge of rock. 

Lines 5-6. Turnbull mispi-ints ' ills' for ' euils.' I caU it 
a misprint ; for throughout in all the mss. and early editions, 
Southwell writes ' euill' not ' ill ;' and there is something no- 
ticeable herein, inasmuch as this constant use by him of ' euUl' 
as a monosyllable seems to i^rove that the contemporary jn-o- 
nunciation (in verse at least) was as if written 'e'il;' very much 
as in Scotland ' devil' is pronounced ' deU,' and as ' spirit' is 
pronounced ' sprite.' What if, after all the guesses of the 
Shakesperean commentators, the much-contested ' dram of eale'' 
(Hamlet, i. 4) be a misprint for ' di-am of e'il' = evil or ill ? It 
fits in with the context. See our Memoj-ial-Introduction for 
numerous examples of ' evill' requiring to be read as ' e'il.' 

Line 5. Turnbull misprints ' the' for ' thy.' 

46 SAINT Peter's complaint. 

Line 10, penance =. penitence, as in st. 77, line 4 ; st. 125, 
line 6 ; St. Peter's Remorse, st. ii. line 1. So too in one at 
least of the B.C. versions. Wicklif (St. Luke xv. 7) and 
Chaucer also use it in the same sense. Cf. Kichaedson, s. n. 

St. iii. line 5, ' Tlnj trespasse foiile ;' an irregular ellipse, 
where (being), or perhaps (is), is taken out of the succeeding 

St. iv. line 1, 'plaints;^ taking 'plaints' as the nominative 
to 'sob,' 'report,' and 'tell,' I have punctuated ruth not ruth, 
and, sorrows — fruits of mine untruth,. 

St. vii. line 3, ' Threnes ;' alluding to the ' threnes' or la- 
mentations c. i-iv., where the stanzas (and in c. iii. the lines) 
commence with a letter of the Hebrew ali^habet in succession, 
as in Psalm cxix. &c. Turnbull grossly misprints ' themes.' 

St. viii. line 6, etien, v. act. = equal or equalise. 

St. ix. lines 1-4, the construction is somewhat obscure. Is 
' and leaving God' part of the second clause, ending with ' give' ? 
In such case God should either be followed by (,) or by no stop 
at all, while ' give' should have (;). Then is ' now left' to be 
taken as jiart of this second clause ? or should it close the first ? 
Either way there is no essential difference in the sense. If 
taken as part of the fii'st, the ellipse requii-es (and am) left &c. 
I have followed the punctuation of 1595 and 1596 here, though 

Line 4, Turnbull again badly misprints ' sign' for ' raigne.' 
For = for sake of. 

Line 5. ' Tliese fearcs ;' these are ' fears' in their objective 
sense, the substantival form of the causal verb, to fear, to make 
to fear =z these fear-causing things ; the second fears are fears 
subjective, or the fears felt and acted on, through the feeling 
or belief that the cause so determined avoided disaster. 

St. X. line 3, Turnbull misprints ' in' for ' to.' 

St. xiv. line 6, for = for sake of, as before. 

St. XV. line 3, I have ventured to read ' few' for ' new' of 
1595 and 1596. 

St. xvi. line 1, ' Ah, life !' Turnbull now over-punctuates 
and now under and mis-punctuates, e.g. he puts (!) after ' Ah' 
and (,) after 'life;' and so throughout. I have put (!) after life, 
and (,) after ' Ah,' i.e. after the noun to which the descriptive 
sentence applies ; and so elsewhere. 1595 and 1596 punctuate 
simply ' Ah life,' 


Line 3, Turnbull misprints again ' bind' for ' wind' (of 
1595 and 1596). 

Line 6, ' never-turning' not a misprint as might be supposed 
for ' ever-turning ;' but = never returning, which might have 
been wi-itten 'ne'er-returning.' Cf. useof ' turning' in quotation 
from Batman in our next note on st. xviii. lines 1-6. 

St. xviii. lines 1-6. The old philosophy believed that the 
ocean filtered back through narrow chinks, and re-appeared in 
springs ; e.g. Jerome saith (when wi-iting on Eccles. i. 7, and 
giving an erroneous interpretation), ' Philosophers tell, that 
sweete waters that runne into the Sea, be consumpt and wasted 
by heat of the sunne, or els they be foode and nourishing of 
ealtnesse of the sea. But our Ecclesiastes, the maker of waters, 
sayeth. That they come agayne by privie veynes of the earth, 
to the well-heades, and commeth out of the mother, that is the 
Sea, and walmeth and springeth out in well-heades' (Batman 
upon Bartholome, Ub. xiii. cap. 3). Some, however, if we may 
judge from Batman's quotations from Isidoee, combined the 
two views ; and this would appear from the word ' added' to have 
been that which Southwell had been taught. But besides the 
mother-sea or main-ocean, there had to be added, according to 
early Christian philosophy, the ahyssus, the ' deep' of South- 
well, and of the authorised version, Gen. i. 2 and vii. 11 : 
but the views as to its nature and position appear to have 
been vague and varied. According to some, ' abyssus' is ' deep- 
nesse of water unseene, and thereof come and spring wells and 
rivers ; for out of the deepnes come all waters, and turne againe 
thereto by priuy waies, as to the mother of water,' as Isidore 
saith, Ub. 13 : but according to Augustine, ' abyssus' is the 
primordial matter, made of naught, whereof 'all things that 
hath shape and forme should be shaped and formed,' and from 
which it would appear that either of the elements of earth or 
water were according to the onlination gift of God formed. 
Neither does it seem to have been settled whether this Abyss 
formed part of the general circulation spoken of above, or 
whether the hidden veins from the Sea to the well-heads were 
subsidiary to the hidden veins from the abyss or overflowing 
deep. Compare Batman, lib. xiii. cap. 3, 22 and 23. 

St. xix. line 3. The construction may be doubtful. Looking 
to the word ' unaccustomed,' and to the parallelism of ' unac- 
customed soil and barren field,' it would seem the heart is = the 
soil, and the construction, ' doth this unaccustomed soil need it,' 

48 SAINT teter's complaint. 

viz. the fertilising with hellish dung. The very frequent in- 
versions in Southwell favour this view, and assuming it to he 
coiTect I have punctuated (,) after need. 

St. XX. line 1, Tuknbull misprints ' dii'est' for ' duest.' 
St. xxi. line 1. If 'lavu of St. Matthew xvi. 17 represent 
the Hebrew Jonah, Bar-Jonah is, as in the text, ' son of a dove ;' 
but by the analogy of the lxx. and the better reading 'Iwdfi'ov of 
St. John i. 42 is with gi-eater probability taken to represent 
Bar-Johannan = son of God's grace. 

St. xxii. line 3, 'That tJiou.'' Turnbull confuses all by mis- 
printing ' these' for ' thou.' 

St. XXV. line 1, ' There.' Turnbull once more loses the 
antithesis as between ' there' and ' here' by misprinting ' These.' 

St. xxvi. line 6, ' both halfes' = body and soul ; the ' two 
mites' of the old Puritans that all may give the Lord. 

St. xxvii. lines 3-6. A reference to the myth-simile of the 
' viper' rending the womb of its mother shows that the reading 
is not ' mines' but ' ruine's :' = all good is the wreck of thy ruin 
or ruining ; just as a rock of ruin in next stanza is a rock of 
ruining, or rock causing ruin. ' Vipera is a manner kinde of 
Berpents that is full venemous. Of this serpent Isidore speaketh 
lib. xii. and saith, that Vipera hath that name, for she bringeth 
forth broode by strength : for when hir wombe draweth to the 
time of whelping, the whelpes abideth not covenable time nor 
kinde passing, but gnaweth and fretteth the sides of their dam, 
and they come so into this world with strength, and with 
the death of the breeder. It is said, that the male doeth his 
mouth into the mouth of the female .... and she wexeth woode 
[=wud] in lyking of increase, biteth off the head of the male, 
and so both male and female are slaine.' (Batman upon Bar- 
tholome, lib. xviii. cap. 117.) 

St. xxviii. line 5, 'Infamous,' and so inst. Ixxxv. line 4: but 
' infamy' in st. xlviii. line 5, and elsewhere. 

St. xxix. line 5, rest = support : ' and he made narrowed rests 
round about, that the beams should not be fastened in the walls 
of the house' (1 Kings vi. 6). To stay ^ to support restrain- 
iugly, as do the ' stays' of a ship's mast: in st. xxiv. 1. 3. it has 
more the simple sense of restraining (from the plunge) ; for a 
' stay' in the sense of a restraining support is properly a side 
or inclined support, not an under-pinning or under-propping. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 49 

St. xxxii. line 5, Turnbull vcxatiously misprints ' by' for 

St. xxxiii. line 1, Additional mss. 10.422 reads 'Parted:' 
and I prefer it to ' Parting' of 1595 and 1596. 

St. xxxiv. line 1, 'Fan-e' Turnbull obscures by misprinting 
' Fare.' 

Line 4, Turnbull again misprints ' suck' for ' seeke.' 

St. xxxviii. line 1, ' part' i.e. me, from Cbrist. 

Line 4, Turnbull misprints ' danger' for ' damage :' 1595 
spells ' domage.' 

Line 5. I have ventured to make two corrections in this 
line, viz. ' worse' for ' worst,' and ' his' for ' this.' In the latter 
the rhyme is not so good ; but cf. ' he is' and ' bliss' in A Child 
my Choice, st. v. ' That runnes' can hardly refer to danger or 
distance or death. 

St. xlii. line 5, ' canded,' as in Shakespeare, ' The cold brook 
candied with ice' (Timon, act iv. sc. 3). On this Shakespcrean 
parallel, see our Memorial-Introduction. 

St. xliv. line 5, ' alone' = in this only or alone did the ' crow- 
ing' assuage, that the cock thereby became his clock to reckon 
his task-duty of tears. 

St. xlv. line 4, ' stinted.' The sense is not eyes ' stinted' by 
any one ; but eyes in a state of ' stint' (as compared with the 
remorse due for so supreme a crime). This sense of the parti- 
ciple in -ed, in which it can hardly be called a participle of 
past time, allows and explains its use in Shakespeare and 
others, where we would rather employ the participle -ing. 
Thus BoLiNGBROKE uscs ' tottcr'd :' 

' Let's march without the noise of threatening drums, 

That from the castle's toiter'd battlements 

Our fair appointments may be well perused.' 

King Richard If. act iii. sc. 3. 
We use the -ed form in a similar sense, but not so frequently ; 
and where the action appears to exist within the thing itself,' 
as in ' stint' and ' totter,' we prefer (though with less truth) to 
make the noun agental, and speak of ' stinting eyes' and ' tot- 
ter/n/7 walls.' If Bolingbroke had battered Flint Castle, he 
would probably have said ' totter /n/; walls,' as indicative of a 
newly present result. For more, see relative note on st. cxi. 
line 4, ' disenchantt'c?.' 


St. xlvi. line 1, ' Revenger' = Christ, not the cock, as Tuen- 
bull's ' revenger' might suggest. 

St.xlviii. line 4, ' spoyle.' See general note onward. 

Lines 1-3, ' gnats :' Exodus viii. 16-18. The third plague (of 
lice, Auth. Vers.). The avicpfs and avlTres of the lxx., and the 
cyniphcs and scyniphes of the Vulgate— all taken hy the Egyp- 
tian and African authorities, Philo, Origen, Augustine, &c., to 
be gnat-lUie insects. 

St. 1. line 6, Turnbull misreads ' Fine' for ' True' of 1595 
and 1596. Addl. mss. 10.422 spells ' Thrue,' the copyist being 
probably an Irishman. 

St. lii. line 3, Turnbull again obscin-es by misprinting ' ef- 

St.- liii. line 2, ' di'oyles'= drudges. 

St. liv. line 3, ' captiuing ;' causal use : thralls— taldng cap- 
tive theii- masters or those who are free. 

Line 6, ' false.' By the usual jjunctuation false, (,) that in- 
terpretation is suggested and favoured which would read, ' do 
you false ones, when you seem to feel either of these emotions, 
love or loathe ?' Looking to Southwell's general style and use 
of inversion, I prefer to interpret false as =/a/s«= do you love 
or loathe falsehood ? Accordingly comma {,) omitted. 

St. Mi. 13 et seqq. On this passage see our Memorial-Intro- 
duction for a very remarkable Shakesperean parallel hitherto 
overlooked, and confirmatory of other Shakespeare allusions 
found in Southwell. 

St. lix. line 3, ' ambryes,' in Turnbull ' ambries.' Ambry 
= almonry, or the place where alms (and as here alms or doles 
of food) were kept. In Scotland still= a larder or pantry for cold 
and broken meats, ' aumry,' as in Fergusson's ' Caller Water.' 

St. Ixi. line 1, I have printed ' light'ning,' not ' lightning- 
flames :'=the blazing comets lighten flames of love. 

St. Ixii. line 2, ' shadows worths,' not, as Turnbull mis- 
prints, ' shadow worths.' In so doing the ' living mirrors' go 
beyond what ie natural ; for in Nature 

' No shadow can with shadow'd things compare.' 

Letcd Love is Losse, st. 2. 

Line 6, ' Then in myselfe, whom sinne and shame defac't.' 
The thought is di-awn from Holy Scripture, and the expression 
characteristically elliptical. His ' image' showed itself in the 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 51 

eyes of Christ as that of a man before the Fall made in the 
image of God, whereas in himself it appeared blurred and de- 
faced. ' My image' may in the first line have the ordinary 
sense of the 'image' of myself ; but in the second line it means 
as {ineo jiuUcio) in the first also, the image that is in me, much 
as ' my wrongs' and ' my injuries' might in the older writers be 
used to mean the wrongs or injuries done to me. 

St. Ixiv. line 1, ' Hesebon.' I place in margin, from 1595 
edition (dropped in 1596), ' Cant. vii. 3.' Oculi tui sicut piscina) 
in Hesebon, qu^ sunt in portu filife multitudiuis (Vulg.) : ' Thine 
eyes like the fish-pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bath-rabbim' 
(Auth. Vers.), Cant. vii. 4. The ' baths of gi-ace' is a new epi- 
thet, and has nothing to do with the pools of Heshbon. Hence 
I punctuate Hesebon (;) not (,), and (,) not (;) after ' desires.' 

Line 3, Turnbull misreads ' delight' for ' i-eioyce.' 

St. Ixv. line 2, Tuknbull again obscures and nonsensifies 
by misprinting ' works' for ' words.' 

St. Ixvi. line 1, cf. St. Luke xxii. 61. 
St. Lxviii. line 3, ' compasse'^ circumference. 
St. Ixix. line 2, 1595 spells ' soone.' 

Line 3, Turnbull misjH-ints ' Whose' for ' Where :' and line 
5, ' Whose' for ' The.' 

St. Ixx. line 3, I have ventured to read ' Best' for ' But.' 
The previous stanza and the word ' Both' in the next line war- 
rant the emendation. 

St. Ixxi. lines 1-4. At first sight it seems natural to make a 
division at salamander, thus reading [exiled] from heaven, [ex- 
iled] from fire ; lost fish [I wander] . Perhaps too the rhythm 
is rather improved thereby. But as heaven = air, fii-e, water, 
laud of life, reflect the enumeration in the last stanza but one, 
I have punctuated roam ; [thus ending the general clause, and 
then giving the elemental similes] .... salamander .... home 
.... wander. The ellipse is viore Southwell, ' Poor saint 
from heaven [I wander] .... from land of life I wander, &c. 

St. Ixxii. line 1, cf. 1 Chronicles ii. 17-18. Bethlehem is the 
Vulgate form, which Southwell has contracted. So too with 
Salomon (st. li. line 2) and Aman, &c. 

Line 2, ' keep.' A strangely elliptical omission of the ob- 
jective [me] . 

52 SAINT Peter's complaint. 

St. Ixxiii. line 3, ' surmounts' := over-passes, excels — one 
sense of the French surmonter. 

St. Ixxiv. line 1, Acldl. mss. 10.422 reads ' Horehh rocke.' 

St. Ixxv. line 1, ' dcimirre .•'=:to delay by dwelling on, to dwell 
on, its pi-imary sense : French demeurer. 

St. Ixxvi. line 1, Southwell adds to the old myth of the 
dying swan's ' singing' solitariness or singleness ; a natural 
and pathetic inference. 

St. Ixxvii. line 4, ' penance' =:penitence, as before. 

St. Ixxviii. line 4, ' By'=through, by means of, as more fre- 
quently in our Poet's day than now. By love is here, through 
God's love. 

St. Ixxix. line 3, '2^?'0&flfes .•'=proofs, or perhaps provings, 
though it is diiScult to understand how this obsolete sense, or 
its legal sense, was derived from probatus. 

St. Ixxxv. line 4, ' infamous.' See relative note on st. xxviii. 
line 5. 

St. Ixxxvi. line 6, ' euen.' Here, like ' heauen,' monosyl- 
labic : but while oui- pronunciation of ' heaven' does not require 
' heav'n,' the fulness of our ' even' requii-es ' e'en,' and so I note 
it (see also st. c. line 4). The student will have no difficulty 
in ijroperly reading such words in their jilaces by attention to 
the above rule, and so in the full -ed and -'d (apostrophe), e.g. 
' Cain's murdering hand imbrued in brother's blood' (st. Ixxxviii. 
line 1), ' murdering' needs no more to be printed ' murd'ring' as 
dissyllabic, than ' heavens' and ' prayers' requii-e to be ' The 
heav'ns with pray'rs, her lap with tears she fill'd' (st. Ixxxix. 
line 5). In Southwell, er, en, and on, are almost constantly 
slurred, though he seizes every opportunity of syllabling -ed. 
Throughout, with one or two exceptions (duly noted in their 
places), that might lead to ambiguous readings, I adhere to the 
Stonyhuest mss. forms. 

St. Ixxxvii. line 4, ' sluce.' Tuenbull wi-etchedly misprints 
' slime.' 

St. Ixxxix. line 1, ' pheare :' spelled in 1595 'phere' = hus- 
band (Abraham). 

Line 2, Tuenbull misprints ' In wilds Barsabian wandering 
alone'=the desert of Beth-sheba, Auth. Vers. ; Bi^pffafiet, Sojit., 
Bersabo, Vulg. 2>(i><sim : in accord with which I read Bcr- not 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 53" 

Line 3, ' doubting' =:in the old sense of suspecting:=di'eading. 
St. xc. line 3, Turnbull misprints ' by' for ' of.' 

St. xciii. line 5, ' Too.' Turnbull vexatiously misprints 
' For.' 

Line 6, Turnbull once more misprints ' is' for ' base.' 

St. xcv. line 3, not ' embalm,' as in Turnbull. 

Line 4, ' rupture.^ Turnbull senselessly misreads and mis- 
prints ' rapture.' Cf. The Vii-gin Mary to Chi'ist, for the sense 
(St. 4). 

St. xcvi. line 2, ' sindonless.' (TiyScuv said to be muslin and 
a garment of muslin ; (nvSouiTris, the wearer of such a garment : 
but the cni'Sulu fivaenvos, as the embalming-cloths of the Egyp- 
tians are called by Herodotus, shows that the word was used 
more generically. It might also be supposed that Southwell 
was anticipating, since it was only by Pharaoh that Joseph was 
endued with a (ttoAtj fivaaip-r) ; but the above words of Herodotus, 
as interpreted by the mummy-wi'appings, show that aivditji/ was 
not necessarily applied to a thin roller either of fine cotton or 
fine linen. 

Line 4, Turnbull misprints ' Such' for ' Riche;' and line 5 
' rich' for ' that.' 

St. ci. line 1, cf. St. Mark iu. 16-17 ; v. 37 : St. Matthew 
xvii. 1 ; xxvi. 37. 

Line 6, cf. Ecclesiastes iv. 12. 

St. ciii. line 2, for ' wi'ought' I have put ' raught' in the 
mai'gin, such being the meaning. But in this and other words 
there was a confusion in the old spelling which hartUy amounted 
to error. In Earle's Phil, of Engl. Tongue (p. 142) Coverdale is 
quoted as spelling ' raught' like Southwell ' wrought' (Parker 
Soc. i. 17). 

Line 3, referi-ing to the passages in the Gospels under st. ci, 
line 1, and to the triple cord of friendship there mentioned, it 
would almost seem that Southwell considered St. Peter to have 
been included in the collective name 'Boanerges.' Or have we 
the Apostolate represented by St. Peter the rock (line 1) and 
St. John the eagle (line 2) ? 

Line 5, Turnbull misprints, with even more than his usual 
carelessness, ' rubber' for ' runner,' stupidly perpetrating a mis- 
erable pun as between 'I'ubber' and ' rub.' 

Line 6, ' cedar.' From the general imagery of the Old Tes- 

54 SAINT Peter's complaint. 

tament, with possibly especial remembrance of Isaiah xxxvii. 

St. civ. line 4, St. Matthew xii. 43-5. 

St. cv. lines 1-4, at the Transfiguration. 

St. cvi. line 4. Here is a case where a strict regard to metre 
would read ' light'neth ;' but I prefer for emphasis' sake to read 
and iH'onouuce it as demi-trisyllabic. 

Line 5, Tuenbull misprints 'late' for 'lay' = unapostolic. 
,, C, in Addl. iiss. 10.422 the reading is ' cast' for ' taste.' 
Query : Is this the proper word, and the reference to Judas 
casting down his blood-money before the priests ? (St. Matthew 
xxvii. 5.) In 1595, as well as in 1596, it is ' taste,' in the for- 
mer spelled ' tast.' In 1595 for ' earned' of 1596 the reading is 
'earnest,' which I adopt as=:the foretaste, or Scotice ' earles,' 
or earl-money, given on the hii-ing of servants. Cf . 2 Cor. i. 22 ; 
Ephesians i. 14, and Mr. W. A. Wright's Bible Word-Book, s.v. 

St. cix. line 4, ' abode' =foreshow, v. act., as in Shakespeare, 

' Tlie night-crow cried, aboding luckless time.' 

3 Henry VI. v. 6. 

St. cxi. line 4, ' disinchanted charmes,' in their [natural] 
state of disenchantment. (See relative note on st. xlv. line 4.) 

St. cxiii. reminds of the soliloquy of Richard II. act ii. 

St. cxv. line 2, ' Whose'' refers to parts, as before. 

Line 3, ' ingrosse'^engrossier=make greater. 

St. cxvi. line 4, 'force.'' Verb intrans.;=: strive (Webster); 
alluding not so much to pressing things on would-be customers, 
as to the usual cry of WTiat d'ye lack ? 

St. cxvii. line 3, ' Rent.'' Tuenbull, with unpardonable neg- 
ligence, makes nonsense of this by misprinting ' but' for ' rent,' 
which is the word in 1595, 1596, and Addl. mss. 10.422. 

Line 6, Tuenbull further blunderingly reads ' Where' for 
' Whose.' 

St. cxx. line 6, ' weepe.' Tuenbull yet again misprints ba- 
theticaUy ' sleep' for ' weepe.' 

St. cxxi. line 2, ' balme.' Tuenbull once more actually 
prints ' blame' for ' balme.' 

St. cxxii. line 3, ^givdng themes to fancy. 

Line 6, ' foretold,' not predicted, but rightly recounted dur- 
ing the past time of wakefulness. 

SAINT Peter's complaint. 55 

St. cxxv. line 6, ' pcnance'=penitence, as before. 

St. cxxvii. line 1, 2 Chronicles xxxii. 11-13. 

St. cxxviii. line 1, as the consti'uction is not [I dare] wish 
I may [mend] , but I may [that is, it is allowable for me to] 
wish [to mend] , I i^unctuate wish (,). 

Line 3, 'my stay,' Tornbull misprints ' mistay.' 
,, 4, a reminiscence of the Confessions of St. Augustine. 
„ 6, so too he misprints ' worst' for ' most,' and ' love' for 
' vow.' 

St. cxxix. line 3, ' release.' Addl. mss. 10.422 reads ' re- 
leaf e.' 

Line 4, ' sauing shroud:' the ' saving shroud:' prophetically 
spoken of his martyi-dom and with reference to Rev. vi. 9-11, 
&c. Repaires=:\)la.CGS whither one goes or repaii's. 

St. cxxxi. line 3, Turnbull provokingly misprints 'increase' 
for ' incense.' 

St. cxxxii. line 1, 1595 badly misprints ' thy' for ' my,' and 
' my' for ' thy.' G. 


' . . . viridi nitidum caput impedire myrto.' 

Horace, Od. i, 4, 9. 


I have given the name ' Myi-tfe' to the second division of the 
Poems of Southwell for two reasons : 

(a) To avoid the commonplace title of 'Miscellaneous Poems.' 

(b) To correspond with that already accepted for the third 
portion (' Majoniaj'). 

If those place our singer among the dainty players of Lydia 
— and something more — these have the vividness and sweet 
perfume of the classic ' mjTtle.' 

The whole of the Poems of this part wei-e added to St. 
Peter's Complaint in 1595, with the exceiition of those noticed 
in our Preface. These were first added in 1596. 

I have adhered to the arrangement of 1596, except in re- 
moving the Natiuity of Christ, and Christ's Childehood, and 
Joseph's Amazement, to their own places in Ma;oniae, as choice 
beads in a string of pearls (as old Thomas Brooks has it), 
placed around the supreme Life and that of His Mother. 

Throughout, the basis of our text is the Stonyhukst mss. 
Notes and Illustrations at the end of each poem give various 
readings, &c. &c. G. 


The signes of shame that stayne my Llushiiige face, 
Rise from the feelinge of my ravinge fittes, 
Wl\ose joy annoy, whose guerdon is disgrace, 
Whose solace flyes, whose sorowe never flittes : 
Bad seede I sow'd, worse fruite is now my gayne, 
Soone-dying mirth begatt long-living payne. 

Nowe pleasure ebbs, revenge beginns to flowe ; 
One day doth wrecke the wrath that many wrought ; 
Remorse doth teach my guilty thoughtes to knowe 
Howe cheape I sould that Christ so dearely bought : 
Eaultes long unfelt doth conscyence now bewraye, 
Which cares must cure and teares must washe awaye. 

All ghostly dints that Grace at me did dart, 
Like stobbourne rock I forced to recoyle ; 
To other flightes an ayme I made my hart 
Whose woundes, then welcome, now have nought my 

Woe worth the bowe, Avoe worth the Archer's might, 
That draue such arrowes to the marke so ric^ht ! 



To liull them out, to leave tliem in is deatlie, 
One to this world, one to the world to come ; 
Woundes may I weare, and draw a doubtfiill breath, 
But then my woundes will worke a dreadfull dome ; 
And for a world whose pleasures passe awaye, 
1 loost a world, whose joyes are paste decaye. 


O sence ! soule ! O had ! hoped blisse ! 
Yow woe, yow weane; yow draw, yow drive me backe; 
Yow crosse encountring, like their conibate is, 
That never end but with some deadly wracke ; 
When sence doth wynne, the soule doth loose the feilde, 
And present happ makes future hopes to yelde. 


O heaven, lament ! sense robbeth thee of sayntes. 
Lament, soules ! sence spoyleth yow of grace ; 
Yet sence doth scarce deserve these hard complayntes. 
Love is the theefe, sence but the entringe place ; 
Yett graunt I must, sence is not free from synne, 
For theefe he is that theefe admitteth in. 


St. i. line 2, ' feelinge' = the sense or perception of. 

Line 5, Tuknbull misprints ' seed' for ' fruite.' 

St. ii. line 2, similarly he misprints 'work' for 'wrecke' = 
wreak, spelled ' wreake' in 1596. 

St. iii. line 1, ' dints.' Dint is used as 1. the force or energy 
employed ;' 2. the stroke itself ; 3. the effect of the stroke, a 

MARY Magdalen's blushe. G1 

(lent (Webster). In the fourth of the passages in which it occurs 
in Southwell (Man to the Wound in Chi-ist's side, st. v. line 
2) it is used as 2. the stroke. In the second (Losse in Delaye, 
St. vi. line 3) the same sense may be attributed to it. But in 
the thu-d (Life is but Losse, st. iv. Hne 2) it can, of the three 
senses, only have 1. the force. And while in this first instance 
senses 1. and 3. are clearly inadmissible, the sense which best 
agi-ees with the context (dart and recoil), and which best ex- 
plains the second and especially the thii-d passage, is a fourth 
sense, that namely of the weapon while in action. From as- 
sociating the word ' dint' with a particular kiud of weapon, the 
spear or dart, as he clearly does in three out of the four- in- 
stances, the fourth being left indefinite in its exin-ession, he 
seems to have been led to employ it as expressing that weapon 
in action ; just as two lines lower he uses, as is shown by the 
words ' whose wounds,' the word ' flight,' the technical or quasi- 
technical term for the action of arrows, for arrows in flight or 
action. But, as onward, flights may be fleghts = aiTows. 

St. iii. line 6, I adopt ' draue' = drave, from 1596, in pre- 
ference to ' di'awe' of our ms. 

St. iv. line 6, Tuenbull misprints ' lose' for ' loost.' 
St. V. line 1, ' had,' Tuenbull misprints 'hap.' 
Lines 2-3. Here only, as a specimen, I give the uncouth 
spelling with a to for our u. I have not repeated it, nor in 
' thou.' Cf. Synne's Heavy Loade, st. iv. and v. (p. 106), where 
' thou' in our ms. is spelled ' thow.' It is ' thou' in the first and 
early-printed editions, and there is no reason for preserving a 

Line 2, ' weane' = wean, Tuenbull misprints ' win.' 
„ 6, ' Happ :' in 1596 ' haps.' It has been said that happi- 
ness (like success) has kept only a part of the original sense 
of ' hap.' If this be so, Southwell has here, and also in Love's 
servile Lott (st. xiii. line 2) and in \Vhat Joye to live (st. ii. 
line 4), used ' hap' in a sense reflected from happiness, and equal 
to good hap and bad hap severally. See other examples in 
Tymes goe byTurnes (st. i. line 6, and st. ii. line 6), and Con- 
tent and Rich (st. xiv. line 4). 

St. vi. line 4, Tuenbull misprints ' chief for ' theefe' G. 


81TH my life from life is parted, 
Death come take thy portion ; 

Who survives when life is miirdred, 
Lives by mere extortion : 

All that live, and not in God, 

Couche their life in deathe's abode. 

Selye starres must nedes leve shyninge 
When the sunne is shadowed, 

Boiowed streames refrayne their runninge 
When hed-springes are hindered ; 

One that lives by other's breathe, 

Dyeth also by his deatlie. 

trewe life! sith Thou hast left me, 

Mortall life is tedious ; 
Death it is to live without Thee, 

Death of all most odious : 
Turne againe or take me to Thee, 
Let me dye or live Thou in me ! 

Where the truth once was and is not, 
Shadowes are but vanitye ; 

MARY Magdalen's complaint at Christ's death. G3 

Shewinge want, that lielpe tliey cannot, 

Signes, not salves, of miserye. 
Paynted meate no hunger feedes, 
Dyinge life eche death exceedes. 

With my love my life was nestled 

In the siimme of happynes ; 
From my love my life is wrested 

To a world of heavynes : 
lett love my life remove, 
Sith I live not where I love ! 

my soule ! what did unloose thee 

From thy sweete captivitye, 
God, not I, did still possesse thee, 

His, not myne, thy Kbertie : 
too happy thrall thou wert, 
When thy prison was His hart. 

SpitefuU speare that brak'st this prison, 

Seate of all felicitye, 
Workinge thus mth dooble treason 

Love's and life's deliverye : 
Though my life thou dravst awaye, 
Maugre thee my love shall staye. 


Our MS., in agreement with 1596, coiTects three of Turn- 
bull's characteristic misreadings and misiirints : st. v. line 2, 
' sun' for ' snmme :' st. vi. line 1, ' that' for ' what :' st. vii. line 
o, ' di-aw'st' for ' di-av'st.' Additional mss. 10.422 has all these 


blunders. St. ii. line 1, see relative note on ' sely' in ' I die 
without desert.' St. iii. lines 3 and 5 : here and throughout, I 
print ' Thee,' not ' The' of our mss.— the latter simply confuses, 
and this record is enough for critical purposes. 

Consult our Introduction for elucidation of what I regard as 
an affecting personal reminiscence in st. i. lines 3-4. Cf. also 
' Life is biit Losse,' line 1, and st. iv., especially lines 3 and 5. 


The lopped tree in tyme may growe agayne ; 
Most naked plants renewe both, frute and fioure ; 
The soriest wiglit may finde release of payne, 
The dryest soyle sucke in some moystning shoure ; 
Tymes go by turnes and chaunces cliang by course, 
From foule to fayre, from better happ to worse. 

The sea of Fortune doth not ever floe, 

She drawes her favours to the lowest ebb ; 

Her tide hath equall tymes to come and goe, 

Her loome doth weave the fine and coarsest webb ; 

No joy so great but runneth to an ende, 

No happ so harde but may in fine amende. 

Not allwayes fall of leafe nor ever springe, 
No endlesse night yet not eternall daye ; 
The saddest birdes a season finde to singe. 
The roughest storme a calme may soone alaye ; 
Thus with succeding turnes God tempereth all, 
That man may hope to rise yet feare to fall. 


A chautice may wynne that by mischance was lost ; 
The nett that houldcs no greate, takes little fishe ; 
In some thinges all, in all thinges none are croste, 
Fewe all they neede, hut none have all they wishe ; 
Unmedled joyes here to no man befall, 
Who least hath some, who most hath never all, 


TuRNBULL has once more provoking misprints in this poem : 
c.r/. St. i. line 3, ' sorest' for ' sorriest :' st. ii. line 3, 'time' for 
'tide :' st. iv. line 2, ' web' for ' nett.' 159(i in st. iii. line 2 has 
' nor yet' for 'yet not.' 1630 in st. iv. line 5 reads ' vnmingled.' 


EETYRfeD thoughtes enjoy their owne delightes, 

As beauty doth in self-beboulding eye ; 

Man's mynde a mirrhour is of heavenly sightes, 

A breife wherein all marveylls summed lye, 

Of fayrest formes and sweetest shapes the store, 

IMost gracefull all, yet thought may grace them more. 

The mynde a creature is, yet can create. 

To ISTature's paterns adding higher skill ; 

Of fynest workes witt better could the state 

If force of witt had equall poure of will : 

Devise of man in working hath no ende ; 

What thought can thinke an other thought can niende. 

66 fortune's falsehoode. 

Man's soiile of endles bewtye's image is, 
Drawen by the worke of endles skill and miglit ; 
This skillfull might gave many sparkes of blisse, 
And to descerne this blisse a native light ; 
To frame God's image as His worthes requird, 
His might, His skill. His worde and will conspir'd. 

All that he had His image should present. 
All that it should present he could afforde, 
To that he coulde afforde his will was bente, 
His will was followed with performinge worde ; 
Lett this suffice, by this conceave the rest, 
He should, he could, he would, he did the best. 

TxJRNBULL badly misprints ' This' for ' His' in st. iv. line 4. 



In worldly nierymcntes lurketh much misery, 
Sly fortune's subtilltyes, in baytes of happynes 
Shroude hookes, that swallowed without recoverye, 
Murder the innocent with mortall heavynes. 

Shee sootheth appetites with pleasing vanityes, 
Till they be conquered with cloaked tyrannye ; 
Then chaunging countenance, with open enmyties 
She tryumphes over them, scorninge their slavery. 

fortune's falsbhoodk. 67 

With favvTiinge flattery deathe's dore she openeth, 
Alluring passingers to blody destinye ; 
In offers bountifull, in proofe she beggereth, 
Men's ruins registring her false felicitye. 

Her hopes are fastned in blisse that vanisheth, 
Her smart inherited with sure possession ; 
Constant in crueltye, she never altereth 
But from one violence to more oppression. 

To those that foUowe her, favours are measured, 
As easie premisses to hard conclusions ; 
With bitter corrosives her joyes are seasoned, 
Her highest benefittes are but illusions. 

Her wayes a laberinth of wandring passages, 
Fooles' comon pilgrimage to cursed deityes ; 
Whose fonde devotion and idle menages 
Are wag'd with wearynes in fruitles drudgeries. 

Blynde in her favorites' foolish election, 
Chaunce is her arbiter in giving dignitye. 
Her choyse of vicious, shewes most discretion, 
Sith welth the vertuous might wrest from piety. 

To humble suppliants tyran most obstinate, 
She sutors answereth with contrarietyes ; 
Proud with peticion, untaught to mitigate 
Rigour with clemencye in hardest cruelties. 


Like tigre fugitive from the ambitious, 
Like weeping crocodile to scornefull enymics, 
Suyng for amity where she is odious, 
But to her followers forswering curtesies. 

IS'o wynde so changeable, no sea so wavcringe, 
As giddy fortune in reeling varietyes ; 
Nowe madd, now mercifull, now ferce, now favoring, 
In all thinges mutable but mutabilities. 


One of Turnbull's most egi-egious misprints is ' Flye' for 
' Sly' in st. i. line 2 : and again his (;) after ' bapiiiness' instead 
of linking it on to ' Sbroude liookes,' as in 1596 : oiu' ms. has 
' shrouds.' Once more, in st. vii. line 2, he confuses all by print- 
ing ' in' for ' is.' 

' Menage' (in st. vi. line 3) refers to the management of the 
horse in giving him studied paces and action, and therefore 
may he r= studied movements. 

Our MS. (in st. x. line 2) by ' varietyes' corrects the lacking 
syllable in Turnbull's ' vanities :' so too in 1596. Our ms. is 
corrected by S. to ' varietyes' from ' vanityes.' G. 


Where wardes are weake and foes encountring, strong, 
Where mightier do assult then do defend, 
The feebler part putts upp enforced wronge. 
And silent sees that speech could not amend ; 
Yet higher poures must think though they repine. 
When simne is sett, the little starres will shyne. 


While pyke doth range the seely tench doth flye, 
And crouch in privy creekes with smaller fishc ; 
Yet pikes are caught when little fish go by, 
These fleete afloate while those do fill the dish. 
There is a tynie even for the worme to creepe, 
And sucke the dewe while all her foes do sleepo. 

The merlen cannot ever sore on highe, 
Nor greedy grayhounde stiU pursue the chase ; 
The tender larke will finde a tyme to flye, 
And fearefull hare to runne a quiet race. 
He that high grouth on cedars did bestowe, 
Gave also lowly mushrumpes leave to growe. 

In Aman's pompe poore Mardocheus wept, 
Yet God did turne his fate upon his foe ; 
The lazar pynd while Dives' feast was kept, 
Yett he to heaven, to hell did Dives goe. 
We trample grasse and prize the floures of Maye, 
Yet grasse is greene when flowers do fade awaye. 


In St. i. line 2, ' assult' is = assault (as in 1596). Line 4, 
' that.' It is perhaps worth notice here, that Southwell con- 
stantly uses ' that' where we would use ' what' or ' that that' 
or ' that which,' and this, as in the present instance, causes 
some obscurity. See other examples in A Child my Choice 
(st. i. line 1), What Joy to Live (st. v. lines 2-4, et alibi). It is 
used also as we should ' who,' as in Christe's Return out of Egypt 
(st. i. line 5). In the same, line 5, our ms., like 1596, reads 
' must,' not as in Turnbull ' most,' and a meaning is attain- 
able with this correction, i.e. the higher powers when fallen 


' think' of the ' little stars' shining, while they, represented by 
the gi-eat ' sun,' are sunk. But query — is ' think' a misprint 
for ' sink,' and the meaning ' Yet, higher powers most sink, 
though they repine' {i.e. the feebler part) ? Cf. 

' Their fall is worst that from the height 
Of greatest honours shde ;' 

and for other difficult and somewhat similar pronominal uses, 
see our relative notes on St. Peter's Complaint. As ' most' is 
simply Tuknbull's blunder, I prefer the reading of our text. 

In st. ii. line 5, even is = e'en. In st. iii. line 1, in 1596 is 
spelled ' marline,' in Additional mss. 10.422 ' merlyn,' and mis- 
printed ' martin' by Turnbull. Merlin or marline is the hawk. 
In st. iii. line 6, ' mushrumpes' = mushrooms : so in 1596, as 
well as Additional MS. 10.422. In st. iv. line 1, in 1596, the 
name is Haman : but Aman is in the Vulgate. In = during. G. 


Lett folly praise that phancy loves, I praise and love 

that Chilcle 
Whose hart no thought, whose tongue no word, whose 

hand no dede defilde. 
I praise Him most, I love Him best, all prayse and 

love is His ; 
While Him I love, in Him I live, and caimot lyve 

Love's sweetest mark, lavde's highest theme, man's most 

desirM ligl^t, 
To love Him hfe, to leave Him death, to live in Him 



Ho myne by gift, I His by debt, thus ech to other 

First frende He was, best frende He is, all tymes will 

try Him trewe. 
Though yonge, yet wise, though small, yet stronge; 

though man, yet God He is ; 
As wise He knowes, as stronge He can, as God He loves 

to blisse. 
His knowledge rules. His strength defendes, His love 

doth cherish all ; 
His birth our joy. His life our light, His death our end 

of thrall, 
Alas ! He weepes. He sighes. He pantes, yet do His 

angells singe ; 
Out of His teares, His sighes and throbbs, doth bud a 

joy full springe. 
Almighty Babe, Whose tender armes can force all foes 

to flye. 
Correct my faultes, protect my life, direct me when I 

dye ! 


In our MS. (to which we adhere) there is no division into 
stanzas of four short lines each ; nor in 1596. 
Line 2, Turnbull misprints ' head' for ' hand.' 
,, 3, our MS. inadvertently reads ' this' for ' His.' 
,, 5, Turnbull most unfortunately misprints ' land's' for 
' laud's.' This is one of S.'s own corrections in our ms. 
Line 7, Turnbull, ' Him' for ' His.' 
,, 8, 159G reads ' other's' = other is. G. 


I DWELL in Grace's courte, 

Enriclid with Vertue's rightes ; 

Faith guides my witt ; Love leades my will 
Hope all my mynde delightes. 

In lowly vales I mounto 

To Pleasure's highest pitch ; 
My sely shroud trew honors bringes, 

My poore estate is ritch. 

My conscience is my crowne, 

Contented thoughts my rest ; 
My hart is happy in it selfe, 

My blisse is in my breste. 

Enoughe, I recken welthe ; 

A meane the surest lott, 
That lyes too highc for base contempt, 

Too lowe for envye's shott. 

My wishes are but fewe, 

All easye to fullfill, 
I make the lymits of my poure 

The bounds unto my will. 


I have no hopes, but one, 

Wliich is of heavenly raigne ; 
Effects atteynd, or not desird, 

All lower hopes refrayne. 

I feele no care of coyne, 

Well-dooing is my welth ; 
My mynd to me an empire is, 

While grace afFordeth helth. 

I clipp high-clyming thoughtes : 

The winges of swelling pride ; 
Their fall is worst, that from the heyghtli 

Of greatest honours slyde. 

Sith sayles of largest size 

The storm e doth soonest teare, 
I beare so lowe and smale a sayle 

As freeth me from feare. 

I wrastle not Avith rage, 

While Furie's flame doth burne ; 
It is in vayne to stopp the streame 

Untill the tide do turne. 

But Avhen the flame is out. 

And ebbing wrath doth end, 
I turne a late enraged foe 

Into a quiott freude. 


And taught with often proofe, 

A tempered cahne I finde 
To be most solace to it self, 

Best cure for angry mynde. 

Spare diett is my fare, 

My clothes more fitt then fine ; 
I knowe I feede and cloth a foe 

That pampred would repine. 

I envye not their happ, 

Whome favour doth advance ; 

I take no pleasure in their payne, 
That have lesse happy chaunce. 

To rise by others' fall 

I deeme a loosing gaine ; 
All states with others' ruyns built, 

To ruyne runne amaygne. 

No chaunge of Fortune's calmes 
Can cast my comfortes downe ; 

When Fortune sniyles, I smile to thinkf 
How quickly she will frowne. 

And when in froward moode 
She prooves an angry foe, 

Smale gayne I found to lett her come, 
Lesse losse to let her goe. 



TuRNBULL has some very careless misprints in this iwcm : 
e.f/. St. ii. line 4, 'to' for 'is:' st. ix. line 4, our ms. spells 
' freeeth,' the third ' e' inserted by S. : ' attend' for ' atteynd' 
= attained (as in 1596) : st. xvi. line 1, ' chance' for ' chaunge.' 

With reference to the line, 

' My myiicl to me an empii-e is' (st. vii. line 3), 
it is interesting to come on another reminiscence of Sir Edward 
Dyer, whose celebrated poem ' My mynde to me a kingdome is' 
was doubtless in our Poet's mind at the moment. (See our 
collection of Dyer's Poems.) For more on this, and imitations, 
consult our Memorial-Introduction. G. 


Shunne delayes, they breede remorse ; 

Take thy time while time doth serve thee ; 
Creepinge snayles have weakest force, 

Fly their fault lest thou rej^eiit thee. 
Good is best when soonest wroughte, 
Lingred labours come to noughts. 

Hoyse upp sale while gale doth last, 

Tyde and winde stay no man's pleasure ; 

Seeke not tynie when tyme is paste, 
Sober speede is wisdom's leysure. 

After-wittes are deerely boughte, 

Lett thy forewytt guide thy thoughte. 


Tyme weares all his lockes before, 
Take tliy houkl upon his forehead ; 

When he ilyes he turnes no more, 
And hehinde his scalpe is naked. 

Workes adjourn'd have many staies. 

Long demurres hreede new delayes. 

Seeke thy salve while sore is grene, 

Festred woundes aske deeper launcing ; 

After-cures are seldome seene. 

Often sought scarse ever chancinge. 

Tyme and place give best advice, 

Out of season, out of price. 

Crush the serpent in the head, 

Breake ill egges ere they be hatched ; 

Kill bad chekins in the tredd, 

Fligg, they hardly can be catched. 

In the risinge stifle ill, 

Lest it growe against thy wiU. 

Droppes do perce the stubborne flynte, 
Is'ot by force but often fallinge ; 

Custome kills with feeble dinte. 

More by use then strength prevayling. 

Single sandes have little weighte, 

Many make a drowninge freighte. 

Tender twigges are bent with ease, 

Aged trees do breake with bendmg ; 


Younge desires make little prease, 

Grouth (loth make them past amendiiige. 
Happy man, that soone doth knocke 
Babell babes againste the rocke ! 


TuRNBULL reads in et. i. line 2, ' is lent' for ' cloth serve •' but 
our MS. and Additional ms. 10.422, and 1596 and 1630, have the 

In St. V. line 4, Tuenbull 'improves' the author's own word 
' fligg' into ' Fledged ;' and in st. vi. line 4, stupidly reads ' and 
vailing' for ' prevailing ;' and line 6, ' di-awing' for ' drowning.' 

In St. ii. line 5, ' after- witte' is = wisdom after the fact, not 

In St. V. Une 2, ' ill eggs' = eggs of noxious bii-ds or vermin. 
Or IS the idea a continuance of that in the previous line and 
the reference to the egg-like casing of the young scorpion,'as in 
St. Luke XI. 12, ' If he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a ser- 
pent (scorpion) ?' I have seen such ' eggs' as you could hardly 
distinguish them from a pigeon's. Or combining the two the 
allusion underlying may be to the belief that asps when hatched 
kill whatever had sat on the eggs. ' And as he [Plinius] saith, 
it happeneth sometime, that a venemous frogge that is caUed 
rubeta, findeth the egge of such an adder [the asins] , and sit- 
teth on brood thereon, and of such breeding commeth a worme 
that slayeth with blast and with sight, as doth the cockatrice. 
The worm that sitteth so on brood, and bringeth it forth, feel- 
eth fii-st all y« venim of his matter and venime : for when it is 
fii-st hatcht, bee beholdeth and seeth him that bringeth him 
forth, and slayeth him in that wise, as he sayeth' (Batman on 
Bartholome, Ixix. c. 80). 

Line 3, ' tread' =: conception. 

St. vi. line 3, ' dint.' See relative note on, elsewhere. 

Line 4, Fligr/ or flygge, as Bryddys, maturus, volatilis. In 
Prompt.Parv., composed by a Norfolk man (as was Southwell) 
Way says/lioocd is still used there ; and Halliwell gives it as 
used in Cheshire and the North. 


St. vii. line 3, prease = pressure. See Wright, s. v. 

Line 6, Tuknbull misprints 'Babel's.' Babel, as elsewhere 
Jesse i"od, &c., prefei-able : = Hapjiy he that destroys wicked 
thoughts ere they grow up. ' Filia Babylonis misera ! . . . Beatus 
qui tenebit et allidet iiarvulos tuos ad petram.' Ps. cxxxvi. 8-9. 
(Ps. cxxxvii. Auth. Vers.) — the prophecy being in Isaiah xiii. 
16. G. 


Love mistres is of many myndes, 

Yet fewe know whome they serve ; 

They recken least how little love 
Their service doth deserve. 

The will she robbeth from the witt, 
The sence from reason's lore ; 

She is delightfull in the ryne, 
Corrupted in the core. 

She shroudeth Vice in Vertvie's veyle, 

Pretendinge good in ill ; 
She offreth joy, afFordeth greife, 

A kisse, where she doth kill. 

A honye-shoure raynes from her lippcs, 
Sweete lightes shyne in her face ; 

She hath the blushe of virgin mynde, 
The mynde of viper's race. 


She makes thee seeke yet feare to finde, 

To finde but not enjoye ; 
In many frowns some glydinge smyles 

She yeldes, to more annoye. 

She woes thee to come nere her fire, 
Yet doth she drawe it from thee ; 

Farr off she makes thy harte to frye, 
And yet to freese within thee. 

She letteth fall some luringe baytes, 

For fooles to gather upp ; 
To sweete, to soure, to every taste 

She tempereth her ciipp. 

Softe soules she bindes in tender twist, 
Small flyes in spynner's webb ; 

She setts afloate some luring streames, 
But makes them soone to ebb. 

Her watery eies have burninge force, 
Her fluddes and flames conspire ; 
Teares kindle sparkes, sobbes fuell are, 
' And sighes do blowe her fier. 

May never was the month of love, 

For May is full of floures ; 
But rather Aprill, wett by kindc, 

For love is full of sliowers. 

80 love's servile lott. 

Like tyran, crewell woundes she gives, 
Like surgeon, salve she lends ; 

But salve and sore have equall force, 
For death is both their ends. 

With soothmg wordes enthralled soules 
She cheynes in servile bandes ; 

Her eye in silence hath a speeche 
Wliich eye best understands. 

Her little sweets hath many soures ; 

Short happ imniortall harmes ; 
Her loving lookes are murdring darts, 

Her songes, bewitchinge charmes. 

Like Winter rose and Summer yce, , 
Her joyes are still untjanelye ; 

Before her hope, behinde remorse, 
Fayre first, in fyne unseemely. 

Moodes, passions, phancies, jelious fitts, 
Attend uppon her trayne ; 

She yeldeth rest without repose, 
A lieaven in hellish payne. 

Her house is sloth, her dore deceite, 
And slippery hope her staires ; 

Unbashfull bouldnes bidds her guestes, 
And every Vice rcpayres. 


Her diett is of such deliglites 

As please, till they be past ; 
But then, the poyson kills the hart 

That did entise the tast. 

Her sleepe in synne doth end in wrath, 

Eemorse rings her awake ; 
Death calls her upp, Shame drives her out, 

Despayres her uppshott make. 

Plowe not the seas, sowe not the sands, 

Leave off your idle payne ; 
Seeke other mistres for your myndes, 

Love's service is in vayne. 

TuRNBULL has some sad en-ors in this poem : e.g. st. iv. line 
3, ' virgin's' for ' vii-gin :' st. vi. line 2, ' she' di-opped out ; and 
so in Ime 4, 'in' for ' within :' st. xi. line 2, ' salves' for ' salve ■' 
St. xii. line 1, ' soothed' for ' soothing.' In our ms. there is no 
division into stanzas. As before, with ' thee,' I print ' off,' not 
' of,' as in st. vi. line 3, and elsewhere. G. 


By force I live, in will I wish to dye ; 

In playnte I passe the length of lingrmg dayes ; 
Free would my soule from mortall body flye, 

And tredd the track of death's desyred waies : 
Life is but losse where death is deemed gaine, 
And loathed pleasures breed displeasinge payne. 



Wlio would not die to kill all murdringe greives 1 
Or who would live in never-dyinge feares ? 

Who would not wish his treasure safe from theeves, 
And quite his hart from pangues,his eyes from teares? 

Death parteth hut two ever-fightinge foes, 

AVhose civill strife doth worke our endles woes. 

Life is a wandringe course to doubtfull reste, 
As oft a cursed rise to damninge leape, 

As happy race to wynn a heavenly creste; 

None bemg sure what finall fruites to reape : 

And who can like ha such a life to dwell, 

Whose wayes are straite to heaven, hut wide to hell 1 

Come, cruell death, why lingrest thou so longe 1 

What doth Avithould thy dynte from fatall stroke 1 

Nowe prest I am, alas ! tbou dost me wronge. 
To lett me live, more anger to provoke : 

Thy right is had when thou hast stopt my breathe. 

Why shouldst thoue stay to worke my dooble deathe 1 

If Saule's attempt in fallinge on his blade 

As lawfull were as eth to putt in ure. 
If Sampson's leave a comon lawe were made, 

Of AbelFs lott, if all that woulde were sure, 
Then, cruell death, thou shouldst the tyran play 
With none but such as wished for delaye. 


Where life is lov'd, thou ready art to kill, 

And to abridge with sodayne pangues their joy ; 

Where life is loath'd thou wilt not worke their will, 
But dost adjorne their death to their annoye. 

To some thou art a feirce unbidden guest, 

But those that crave thy helpe thou helpest lest. 

Avaunt, vij^er ! I thy spite defye : 

There is a God that overrules thy force, 

Who can thy weaj)ons to His will applie, 

And shorten or j^rolonge our brittle course. 

I on His mercy, not thy might, relye ; 

To Him I live, for Him I hope to die. 


The lines already referred to (' Mary Magdalen's Complaint 
at Christ's Death,' st. i.), and the yearning hope of martyi*dom 
expressed at the close of this infinitely pathetic poem, render 
it most ijrobahle that these semi-autobiogi-aphic pieces were 
composed in prison after the Poet's tortures. The same may he 
said of the next, ' I die alive.' Strange that none of South- 
well's biogi-aphers have observed these affecting personal allu- 
sions. See our Memoi-ial-Introduction. 

St. i. line 5, ' deemed.' See relative note on St. Peter's 
Complaint, in the ' Author to the Reader,' st. i. line 2. 

St. iii. line 2, cf. St. Peter's Comjil. st. xii. line 1. 

Line 3, an allusion to the Ppa^e7ou and arefpafof of 1 Cor. 
ix. 24 - 5 ; but the form ' crest' (independent of the needed 
rhyme with ' rest') suggested by the rayed aureole of the pic- 
tured representations of saints. 

St. V. line 2 = as easily put in use or practice. 

Line 3, Toenbull misprints ' lean.' Cf. Judges xv. 26, 
where ' leave' is asked and given to ' lean' or ' feel' the temple- 
pillars. G. 


LIFE ! what letts thee from a quicke decease ? 

death ! what drawes thee from a present praye 1 
My feast is done, my soule would be at ease, 

My grace is saide ; death ! come take awaye. 

1 live, but such a life as ever dyes ; 

1 dye, but such a death as never endes ; 
My death to end my dying life denyes, 

And life my living death no whitt amends. 

Thus still I dye, yet still I do revive ; 

My living death by dying life is fedd ; 
Grace more then nature kepes my hart alive, 

Whose idle hopes and vayne desires are deade. 

ISTot where I breath, but where I love, I live ; 

l{ot where I love, but where I am, I die ; 
The life I wish, must future glory give, 

The deaths I feele in present daungers lye. 


In OTir illustrated quarto edition I fm-nish facsimile of a 
portion of the MS. of this poem, showing the Author's auto- 
gi-aph-correction in st. iii. line 1, of ' revive' for ' remayne,' 
which also agi-ees with 1596. See our Memorial-Inti-oduction 
and Preface. G. 

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I WAGE no waiT, yet peace I none enjoy ; 

I hope, I feare, I fry in freesing colde ; 
I mount in mirth, still prostrate in annoye ; 

I all the worlcle imbrace yet nothing holde. 
All welth is want Avhere chefest wishes fayle, 
Yea life is loath'd where love may not prevayle. 

For that I love I long, but that I lacke ; 

That others love I loath, and that I have ; 
All worldly fraightes to me are deadly wracke, 

Men present happ, I future hopes do crave : 
They, loving where they live, long life require, 
To live where best I love, death I desire. 

Here love is lent for loane of filthy gayne ; [shewe ; 

Most frendes befrende themselves Avith frendshipp's 
Here plenty perill, want doth breede disdayne ; 

Cares comon are, joyes falty, shorte and fewe ; 
Here honour envyde, meanesse is dispis'd ; 
Synn deemed solace, vertue Httle prisde. 

Here bewty is a bayte that, swallowed, choakes, 
A treasure sought still to the owner's harmes ; 

A light that eyes to murdring sightes provokes, 

A grace that soides enchaunts with mortall charmes ; 

86 life's death, love's life. 

A luringe ayme to Cupid's fiery flightes, 

A LalefuU blisse that damnes wliere it delightes. 

who would live so many deaths to trye ? 

Where will doth wish that wisdome doth reprove, 
Where Kature craves that grace must nedes denye, 

Where sence doth like that reason cannot love, 
Where best in shewe in finall proofe is worste, 
Where pleasures uppshott is to dye accurste. 


TuRNBULL again has vexatious misprints in this poem: e.g. 
st. i. line 4, 'If for ' I :' st. ii. line 2, ' other' for ' others :' st. 
iii. line 1, nonsensically, ' Here loan is lent for love of filthy- 
gain :' St. iv. line 2, ' in' for ' to :' line 5, ' gain' for ' ayme,' and 
'slights' for ' flightes.' 1596 agrees with our ms. In st. i. line 
1, oui- MS. inadvertently reads 'nowe' for 'none.' G. 


Who lives in love, loves lest to live, least 

And longe delayes doth rue, 
If Him he love by Whome he lives, 

To Whome all love is dewe. 

Who for our love did choose to live, 

And was content to dye ; 
Who lov'd our love more then His life. 

And love with life did buy. 

life's death, love's life. 87 

Let us in life, yea with our life. 

Requite His livinge love ; 
For best we live when lest we live, Imd 

If love our life remove. 

Where love is hott, life hatefull is. 

Their groundes do not agree ; 
Love where it loves, life where it lives, 

Desyreth most to bee. 

And sith love is not where it lives, 

Nor liveth where it loves, 
Love hateth life that holdes it backo. 

And death it best approves. 

For seldome is He woonn in life 

Whome love doth most desire ; 
If woonn by love, yet not enjoyde. 

Till mortall life expire. 

Life out of earth hath no abode. 
In earth love hath no place ; 
Love setled hath her joyes in heaven, 
In earth life all her grace. 

Mourne, therefore, no true lover's death, 

Life onely him annoy es ; 
And when he taketh leave of life, 

Then love beginns his joyes. 



In st. i. line 1, ' lest' is=least, as in 1596. In st. iii. line 3, 
Tdrnbull mispiints ' best' for ' lest' = ' least,' as before. G. 


Fayre soule ! liow long shall veyles thy graces shroud 1 
How long shall this exile withold thy right 1 

Wlien will thy sunn disperse this mortall cloude, 
And give thy glories scope to blaze their light 1 

that a starr, more fitt for angells' eyes, 

Should pyne in earth, not shyne ahove the skyes ! 

Thy ghostly beauty offred force to God ; 

It cheyned Him in the linckes of tender love ; 
It woonn His will with man to make aboade ; 

It staid His sword, and did His wrath remove : 
It made the rigour of His justice yelde. 
And crowned Mercy empresse of the feilde. 

This lul'd our heavenly Sampson fast asleepe, 
And laid Him in our feeble nature's lapp ; 

This made Him under mortall loade to creepe, 
And in our flesh His Godhead to enwrai:)p ; 

This made Him sojourne with us in exile, 

And not disdayne our titles in His style. 


This brought Him from the rancks of heavenly quires 
Into this vale of teares and cursed soyle ; 

From fioures of grace into a world of briers, 

From life to death, from blisse to balefull toyle. 

This made Him wander in our pilgrim-weede. 

And tast our tormentes to releive our neede. 

O soule ! do not thy noble thoughtes abase, 
To loose thy loves in any mortall wight ; 

Content thy eye at home with, native grace, 
Sith God Himself is ravisht with thy sight ; 

If on thy bewty God enamored be, 

Base be thy love of any lesse then He. 

Give not assent to muddy-mynded skill, 

That deemes the feature of a pleasing face 

To be the sweetest bayte to lure the will ; 

Not valewing right the worth of ghostly grace ; 

Let God's and angel Is' censure wynne beleife. 

That of all bewtyes judge our soules the cheife. 

Queue Hester was of rare and peerolesse hew. 
And Judith once for bewty bare the vaunt ; 

But he that could our soules' endowments vew. 

Would soone to soules the crowne of beuty graunt. 

soule ! out of thy self seeke God alone : 

Grace more then thyne, but God's, the world hath none. 

TuENBULL has one of his most careless misprints in st. ii. 



1. 5, ' vigour' for ' rigour.' St. v. line 6, in 1596 reads ' is' for 
' be.' In st. v'ii. line 2, ' bare the vaunt,' the sense answers to 
the saying of the Assja-ians in Judith xi. 19 : ' Non est talis 
mulier super terram in aspectu, in pulchritudine, et in sensu 
verborum.' It seems clear that ' vaunt' here is=the van or 
fore-front. Of. the parallel phi-ases, ' bear the bell,' and ' bear 
the mastership.' I have not met before or elsewhere with 
' vaunt' as thus used. But see our Memorial-Introduction on 
Southwell and Shakespeare. G. 


Misdeeming eye ! that stoopest to the lure 

Ofmortall worthes, not worth so worthy love; 

All beautye's base, all graces are impure, 

That do thy erring thoughtes from God remove. 

Sparkes to the fire, the bearaes yeld to the sunne, 

All grace to God, from Whome all graces runne. 

If picture move, more shoiild the paterne please ; 

1^0 shadow can with shadowed thinge compare, 
And fayrest shapes, whereon our loves do ceaze, 

But sely signes of God's high beautyes are. 
Go, sterving sense, feede thou on earthly maste ; 
Trewe love, in heaven seeke thou thy sweete repast. 

Gleane not in ban-ayne soyle these ofFall-eares, 

Sith reape thou mayst whole harvests of delighte ; 

Base joyes -with greifes, bad hopes do end in feares, 
Lewd love with losse, evill peace with dedly fighte : 


God's love alone doth end with endlesse ease, 
Whose joyes in hope, whose hope concludes in peace. 

Lett not the luringe trayne of phansies trapp. 
Or gracious features, proofes of Nature's skill, 

LuU Season's force asleepe in Error's laj^p, 
Or drawe thy witt to bent of wanton will. 

The fayrest floures have not the sweetest smell ; 

A seeminge heaven proves oft a damninge hell. 

Selfe-pleasing soules, that play with beautye's bayt, 
In shyning shroud may swallowe fatall hooke ; 

Where eager sight on semblant faire doth waitc, 
A locke it proves, that first was but a looke : 

The tishe with ease into the nett doth glyde, 

But to gett out the waie is not so wide. 

So long the fly doth dally with the flame, 
Untill his singed winges do force his fall ; 

So long the eye doth foUowe phancie's game, 
Till love hath left the hart in heavy thrall. 

Soone may the mynde be cast in Cupide's gaile, 

But hard it is imprisoned thoughtes to baylc. 

loath that love whose finall ayme is luste, 
Moth of the mind, eclipse of reason's lighte; 

The grave of grace, the mole of Nature's rust, 
The wrack of witt, the wronge of every right. 

In summe, an eviU whose harmes no tongue can tell ; 

In which to live is death, to die is hell. 

92 love's gardyne greife. 


TuRNBULL, in St. ii. line 4, misprints ' folly' for ' sely ;' on 
the latter see our relative note on ' I die without desert' (st. i. 
line 4). He also makes nonsense of st. ii. line 6, by misprint- 
ing 'is' for 'in.' In st. v. line 3, our ms. miswrites 'or' for 'on.' 

In st. vii. line 3, ' inole of Nature's rust' is not inoles a heap, 
nor yet mole a body-stain, but the mola oi Pliny and French 
mole, a false conception, or shapeless, senseless mass of fleshy 
matter=the moon-calf of our ancestors. Marvell uses it in 
the same sense in Appletou House, 

' What need of all this marble crust 
V impare the wanton mole of dust ;' 

and by early medical writers. This poem, in 1616 and 1620 
editions, is headed ' S. Mary Magdalen's Traunce.' G. 


Vaynb loves, avauiit ! infamous is your pleasure, 

Your joye deceite ; 
Your Jewells jestes, and worthies trash your treasure, 

Fooles' common baite. 
Your pallace is a prison that allureth 
To sweete mishapp, and rest that payne procureth. 

Your garden, greif hedgd in with thornes of envye 

And stakes of strife ; 
Your allies, errour gravelled with jelosye 

And cares of life ; 
Your bancks, are seates enwrapt with shades of sadnes; 
Your arbours, breed rough fittes of raging madnes. 

love's gardyne oueife. 93 

Your Ledds, are sowen with seedus of all iui(iuitye 

And poysening weedes, 
Whose stalkes cvill thoughts, whose leaves words full 
of vanitye, 

Whose fruite misdeedes ; 
Whose sapp is synn, whose force and operacion, 
To banish grace and worke the soule's damnation. 

Your trees are dismall plants of pyning corrosives, 

Whose root is ruth, 
Whose bark is bale, whose tymber stubborne phantasies, 

Whose pith untruthe ; 
On which iia liew of birdes whose voyce deliteth, 
Of guilty conscience screching note affrighteth. 

Your coolest sommer gales are scalding syghinges, 

Your shoures are teares ; 
Your sweetest smell the stench of synnfull livinge, 

Your favoures feares ; 
Your gardener Satan, all you reape is misery. 
Your gayne remorse and losse of all felicitye. 


The heading is = Garden [House] Gx'eife. The Garden- 
House was the name of the country or suhurban retreat of 
well-to-do citizens or town-dwellers, and was often made a 
place of assignation and intrigue. 

On ' infamous' (st. i. line 1) see relative note on ' St. Peter's 
Complaint' (st. xxviii. line 5). 

In st. ii. line 3, ' <allies'=:alleys or gi-een embowered walks. 
TuRNBULL, in st. ii. line 5, misprints 'branches' for 'bancks 
are.' G. 


Lett fickle Fortune ninn her blyndest race, 
I setled have an unremoved mynde ; 

I scorne to be the game of Phancie's chase, 

Or fane to shewe the change of every winde. 

Light giddy humours, stinted to no rest. 

Still change their choyse, yet never choose the best. 

My choise was guided by foresightfull heede, 
It was averred with approvinge will ; 

It shall be followed with performinge deede. 

And seald with vow, till death the chooser kill. 

Yea death, though finall date of vayne desires, 

Endes not my choise, which with no tyme expires. 

To beautye's fading blisse I am no thrall ; 

I bury not my thoughtes in mettall mynes ; 
I ayme not at such fame as feareth fall ; 

I seeke and finde a light that ever shynes : 
Whose glorious beames display such heavenly sightes. 
As yeld my soule the summe of all delightes. 

FROM fortune's REACH. 95 

My light to love, my love to life, dotli guide, — 
To life that lives by love, and loveth lighte ; 

By love of one, to "VVhome all loves are tyd 
By duest debt, and never-equalld right ; 

Eyes' light, harte's love, soule's truest life He is, 

Consorting in three joyes one perfect blisse. 


In St. i. line 4, ' vane' (as in 1596) is spelled ' fane' in our 
MS. and in Addl. biss. 10.422. 

TuRNBULL misprints ' in' for ' to' in st. i. line 5, and, worse 
still, ' light' for ' life' in st. iv. line 1, and line 3, 'to' for ' of.' 

The ' mettall mynes' of st. iii. line 2 is a cnrious (incidental) 
indication that ' metal mines' began in Elizabeth's reign to be 
earnestly sought after. Shortly thereafter Sii* Hugh Myddle- 
ton, to whom was due the New River water-supply, gained 
much wealth from his silver-lead mines in Wales. Samuel 
Smiles has recently worthily revived the memory of this gi'eat 


He that his myrth hath lost, 

Whose comfort is to rue, 
Whose hope is falne, whose faith is cras'd, 

Whose trust is founde untrue ; 

If he have helde them deere, 

And cannot cease to mone, 
Come, lett him take his place by me ; 

He shall not rue alone. 

But if the smallest sweete 

Be mixt with all his soure ; 
If in the day, the moneth, the yere. 

He feele one lightninge houre. 

Then rest he with him selfe ; 

He is no mate for me, 
Whose tyme in teares, whose race in ruth, 

Whose life a death must be. 

Yett not the wished deathe, 

That feeles no plaint or laclce, 
That, makinge free the better parte, 

Is onely Nature's wracke : 

dyer's piianct turned to complainte. 97 

O no! tliat were too well ; 

My death is of the mynde, 
That allwaies yeldes extremest pangues, 

Yet threttens worse behinde. 

As one that lives in shewe, 

And inwardly doth dye ; 
Whose knowledge is a bloodye feilde, 

Where Vertue slayne doth lye ; 

Whose hart the alter is 

And hoast, a God to move ; 
From whome my evell doth feare revenge, 

His good doth promise love. 

My pliancies are like thornes 

In which I go by nighte ; 
;My frighted witts are like a hoaste 

That force hath put to flighte. 

My sence is Passion's spie, 

My thoughtes like ruyns old, 
Which sheAV how ftiire the building was, 

While grace did it upholde. 

And still before myne eyes 

My mortall fall they laye ; . 
Whom Grace and Yertue once advauncd, 

^ow synne hath cast away. 

98 dyer's phancy turned 

thoughtes ! no thoughtes, but woundes, 

Sometyine the seate of joye, 
Sometyme the store of quiett rest, 
But now of all annoye. 

1 sow'd the soyie of peace ; 

My hlisse was in the springe ; 

And day by day the fruite I eate, 

That Vertue's tree did bringe. 

To nettles no we my come, 

My feild is turn'd to flynte, 

Where I a heavy harvest reape 
Of cares that never stynte. 

The peace, the rest, the life. 

That I enjoy 'd of yore, 
Were happy lott, but by their losse 

My smarte doth stinge the more. 

So to unhappye menn. 

The best frames to the worste ; 
tyme ! place ! where thus I fell ; 

Deere then, but now accurste ! 

In ivas, stands my delighte, 
In is and shall, my woe ; 
My horror fastned in the yea ; 
My hope hang'd in the noe. 

TO A sinner's complainte. 99 

Unworthy of releife, 

Tliat craved it too late, 
Too late I finde, (I findo too well,) 

Too well stoode my estate. 

Behould, such is the ende 

That pleasure doth procure, 
Of nothing els but care and plaint 

Can she the mynde assure. 

Forsaken firste by grace, 

By pleasure now forgotten, 
Her payne I feele, but Grace's wage 

Have others from me gotten. 

Then, Grace where is the joye 

That makes thy tormentes sweete 1 

Where is the cause that many thought 
Their deathes through thee but meete 1 

Wliere thy disdayne of synne. 

Thy secreet sweete delite ] 
Thy sparkes of blisse, thy heavenly raye.s, 

That sliyned erst so brighte ] 

O that they were not loste, 

Or I coulde it excuse ; 
that a dreanie of feyncd losse 

My judgement did abuse! 

100 dyer's phancy turned 

O frayle inconstant fleshe ! 

Soone trapt in every gynn ! 
Soone -wrought thus to betray thy soule, 

And plunge thy self in synne ! 

Yett hate I but the faulte, 

And not the faltye one, 
ISTe can I rid from me the mate 

That forceth me to mono ; 

To moane a synner's case, 

Then wliich was never worse, 

In prince or poore, in yonge or old, 
In blissd or full of curse. 

Yett God's must I romayne. 

By death, by Avronge, by shame ; 

I cannot blott out of my harte 
That gTace wrote in His name. 

I cannot sett at noughte 

Whome I have held so deare ; 

I cannot make Him seeme afarre, 
That is in dede so neere. 

Not that I looke henceforthe 
For love that erst I founde ; 

Sith that I brake my plighted truth 
To build on fickle grounde. 

TO A sinner's complainte. 101 

Yet that sliall never fayle 

Which my faith bare in hande ; 

I gave my vow; my vow gave me ; 
Both vow and gift shall stande. 

But since that I have synnd, 

And scourge none is too ill, 
I yeld me captive to my curse, 

My hard fate to fullfill. 

The solitarye woode 

My citye shall become ; 
The darkest denns shall be my lodge ; 

In which I rest or come : 

A sandy plott my borde. 

The woormes my feast shall be, 
Wherewith my carcas shall be fedd, 

Untill they feede on mee. 

My teares shall be my wyne, 

My bedd a craggy rocke : 
My harmonye the serpente's hysse, 

The screeching oule my clocke. 

My exercise, remorse 

And dolefuU sinners' layes ; 
My booke, remembrance of my crymes, 

And faltes of former dayes. 

102 dyer's phanoy turned to complainte. 

My walke, the pathe of playnte ; 

My prospect into hell, 
Where Judas and his cursed crewe 

In endles paynes do dwell. 

And though I seeme to use 

The feyning poet's stile, 
To figure forth my carefull plight, 

My fall and my exile : 

Yet is my greife not fayn'd, 

Wherein I sterve and pyne ; 
Who feeleth most shall thinke it lest, hast 

If his compare with myne. 

notes and illustrations. 

The title in 1596 is simply ' A Pliansie turned to a Sinner's 
Complaint.' In the Haeleian ms. it is ' Maister diers . . . .' 
De. Hannah, in his Courtly Poets from Raleigh to Montrose 
(1870), has given Southwell's poem, along with Lord Brooke's 
and Sir Edward Dyer's. Our ms. yields cori-ections of all previ- 
ous texts ; and Dr. Hannah wiU he pleased to find his own con- 
firmed. The difference hetween a mind of real insight and a 
mere pretender could not he hetter illustrated than hy a com- 
parison of the poem as given in Courtly Poets and Tuenbull's : 
e.g. the latter, in st. i. line 3 reads 'salve' for 'falne :' st. iii. 
line 4, ' lighting' for ' lightninge :' st. iv. line 4, ' in' for ' a :' 
st. V. line 2, ' in' for ' no:' Dr. Hannah reads here ' pain' for 
' plaint ;' but our ms. and Harleian ms. and 1596 agi-ee in read- 
ing ' plaint,' which is also a favourite word with our Poet, as in 
this very piece : st. vi. et alibi, I print ' too,' not ' to :' st. xviii. 
line 2, Dk. Hannah reads ' is' for ' it' by inadvertence : st. xxii. 
line 3 : so Dr. Hannah misreads ' joys' for ' raycs,' following 
1596; but 'raycs,' as in our bis. and Haeleian, is preferable: 
st. xxiv. line 2, Tuenbull misprints ' wrapt' for ' trai>t :' st. 
XXV. line 1, ib. ' have' for ' hate :' I have adopted ' Ne' for ' Nor' 

David's peccavi. 103 

from 159G here : st. xxx. line 2, ib. ' has' for ' bare :' st. xlii. line 
3, ' carefull'=full of cares, as in Piiinkas Flktcher: st. xliii. 
line 4=If his [lie] compare. 

I may be permitted to refer for more on the series of poems 
of which this forms one, to my Works of Lord Brooke, vol. iii. 
pp. 145-154, and to my collected Poems of Sir Edward Dyer in 
Fuller Worthies' Miscellanies, vol. iv. G. 


In eaves sole sparowe sitts not more alone, 
Nov mourning pelican in desert wilde, 

Than sely I, that solitary mone, 

From highest hopes to hardest happ exild : 

Sometyme, blisfuU tyme ! was Vertue's meede 

Ayme to my thoughtes, guide to my word and deede. 

But feares now are my pheares, greife my delight, 
My teares my drinke, my famisht thoughtes my 
bredd ; 

Day full of dumpes, nurse of unrest the nighte, 
My garmentes gives, a bloody feilde my bedd ; 

My sleape is rather death then deathe's allye, 

Yet kil'd with murdring pangues I cannot dye. 

This is the change of my ill changed choise, 

Ruth for my rest, for comfortes cares I finde ; 

To pleasing tunes succeedes a playninge voyce, 
The dolefull eccho of my waylinge minde ; 

Which, taught to know the worth of Vertue's joyes, 

Doth hate it self, for lovinge phancie's toyes. 

104 David's peccavi. 

If wiles of witt had overwroughte my will, 
Or sutle traynes misledd my steppes awrye, 

My foyle had founde excuse in want of skill, 
lU deede I might, though not ill dome, denye. 

But witt and will muste nowe confesse with shame. 

Both deede and dome to have deserved blame. 

I phancy deem'd fitt guide to leade my waie. 
And as I deem'd I did pursue her track, 

Witt lost his ayme and will was phancie's pray ; 
The rebell wonne, the ruler went to wracke. 

But now sith phancye did with foUye end, 

Witt bought with losse, wiU taught by witt, will mend. 


The title in 1620 edition is ' St. Peter's Complaint :' and 
with it may be compared that poem, st. xxviii. and others. 

St. ii. line 1, ' pheares'^ companions (as a husband). 

Line 4, 1596 speUs ' giues,' our ms. ' gives,' Additional ms. 
10.422 ' gyves,' 1630 ' gj'ues.' Tuknbull blunderingly amends 
by reading ' give,' not seeing that the word is ' gyves'=man- 
acles or chains. 

St. iii. line 1, 1596 reads ' chaunce' for ' change ;' so 1630. 

St. iv. line 2, Turnbull again provokes us with misprinting 
' away' for ' awrie.' 

St. V. line 2, ' deem'd'=judged, as before. Tuenbull mis- 
prints ' In' for ' I.' 

Line 4, 1596 reads ' rebels' and ' rulers.' In such case pro- 
bably ' faucyes,' not ' fancye,' was the author's word. G. 


O Lord ! my sinne doth overchardge Thy breste, 
The poyse thereof doth force Thy knees to bowe ; 

Yea, flatt Thou fallest with my faultes oppreste, 

And bloody sweate runnestricklingefromThybrowe : 

But had they not to earth thus pressed Thee, 

Much more they woulde in hell have pestred me. 

This globe of earth doth Tliy one finger propp. 

The worlde Thou dost within Thy hand embrace ; 

Yet all this waight, of sweat drew not a dropp, 

Nor made Thee bowe, much lesse fell on Thy face ; 

But now Thou hast a loade so heavyc founde, 

That makes Thee bowe, yea flatt fall to the grounde. 

Synne ! howe huge and heavye is thy waight, 
That wayest more then all the worlde beside ; 

Of which when Christ had taken in His fraighte. 
The poyse thereof His flesh coulde not abide. 

Alas ! if God Himself sincke under synne, 

What will become of man that dies therein 1 


lOG synne's heavy loade. 

First flatt Thou fellst where earth did Thee receive, 
In closett pure of Marye's virgin breste ; 

And now Thou fallst, of earthe to take Thy leave, 
Thou kissest it as cause of Thy unreste : 

loving Lord ! that so dost love Thy foe 

As thus to kysse the grounds where he doth goe ! 

Thou, minded in Thy heaven our earth to weare, 

Dost prostrate now Thy heaven our earth to blisse ; 

As God to earth Thou often wert severe. 

As man Thou sealst a peace with bleedinge kisse : 

For as of soules Thou common father art. 

So is she mother of man's other parte. 

She shortly was to drincke Thy dearest bloode. 
And yelde Thy soule awaye to Satan's cave ; 

She shortly was Thy cors in tombe to shroude, 
And with them all thy Deitye to have ; 

Now then in one Thou joyntly yealdest all, 

That severally to earth should shortely fall. 

prostrate Christ ! erect my croked mynde ; 

Lord ! lett Thy fall my flight from earth obtayne ; 
Or if I still in Earth must nedes be shrynde. 

Then, Lord ! on Earth come fall yet once againe ; 
And ether yelde with me in earthe to lye, 
Or ols with Thee to take me to the skye ! 



St. i. 1. 1, Addl. MS. 10.422 reads 'synnes,' as in 1596, &c. 
St. ii. line 4, Addl. ms. 10.422 reads ' Nee' for ' Nor,' and 
1596 ' Ne.' I have adopted it in preference to ' Nor,' as in Turn- 
boll and our ms. 

St. iii. line 4, ' poyse' is =: poize. I note this, as ' poise' in 
the present day gives rather the idea of balance. 

St. V. line 6, our ms. inadvertently reads ' the' for ' she.' 
St. vi. line 1, Turnbull misprints ' the' for ' Thy.' 
Line 2, our ms. inadvertently reads 'awaye,' and Turnbull 
so misjirints. 1596 and 1630 properly have 'a way' = Earth is 
to yield a way or passage for thy soul to Satan's cave. 

Line 6, again Turnbull misprints ' several' for ' severally.' 
St. vii. line B, 1596 reads 'Or if I needes must still in eai*th 
' G. 


Behould a sely teuder Babe, 
In freesing winter nighte, 

In homely manger trembling lies ; 
Alas, a pitious sighte ! 

The inns are full, no man will yelde 
This little pilgrime bedd ; 

But forc'd He is with sely beastes 
In cribb to shroude His headd. 

Despise not Him for lyinge there, 
First "What He is enquire ; 

An orient perle is often founde 
In depth of dirty mire. 


Waye not His cribb, His wodden dislie, 
Nor beastes that by Him feede ; 

Way not His mother's poore attire, 
Nor Josephe's simple weede. 

This stable is a Prince's conrte, 
The cribb His chaire of State ; 

The beastes are parcell of Hin pompe, 
The wodden dishe His plate. 

The parsons in that poore attire 

His royall liveries weare ; 
The Prince Himself is come from heaven, 

This pompe is prised there. 

With joy approch, Christian wighte ! 

Do homage to thy Kinge ; 
And highly prise His humble pompe 

Which He from heaven doth bringe. 


Line 9, 1596 reads ' Despise Him not :' line 24, Tuenbull 
misprints ' praised' for ' prized :' line 27, Tuknbull, after 1630 
and 1634, misprints ' praise' for ' prise.' I read ' His' for ' this ;' 
a frequent misprint. 

On ' siUy' (line 1) see relative note onward, on ' I die without 
dessert' (line 4). G. 


As I in hoary Winter's night stood shivermgo in the 

Surpris'd I was with sodaync heat, which made my 

hart to glowe ; 
And liftinge upp a fearefull eye to vewe what fire was 


A prety Babe all burninge bright, did in the ayre ap- 

Who scorched with excessive heate, such floodes of teares 

did shedd, 
As though His floodes should quench His flames which 

with His teares were fedd ; 
Alas ! quoth He, but newly borne, in fiery heates I frye, 
Yet none approch to warme their hartes or feele my fire 

but I ! 
My faultles brest the fornace is, the fuell woundinge 

Love is the fire, and sighes the smoke, the ashes shame 

and scorn es ; 
The fuell Justice layeth on, and Mercy blowes the 

The mettall in this fornace wrought are men's defiled 


For which, as nowe on fire I am, to worke them to their 

So will I melt into a bath to washe them in My bloode : 
With this He vanisht out of sight, and swiftly shroncke 

And straight I caRhd unto mynde that it was Christmas- 



See our Meinorial-Introductiou for Ben Jonson's ' Conver- 
sation' with Drummond of Hawtliornden on this poem. 

Line 5, Turnbull misreads ' exceeding :' line 6, also mis- 
reads ' with what' for ' which with.' 


Come to your heaven, yowe heavenly quu-es ! 
Earth hath the heaven of your desires ; 
Eemove your dwellinge to your God, 
A stall is nowe His beste aboade ; 
Sith men their homage do denye. 
Come, angells, all their fault supply. 

His chilling could doth heate requu-e. 
Come, seraphins, in liew of fire ; 
This little ark no cover hath, 
Let cherubs' winges His boody swath ; 


Come, Raphiell, this babe must eate, 
Prouide our little Tobie meate. 

Let Gabriell be nowe His groome, 
That first tooke upp His earthly roome ; 
Let Michell stand in His defence, 
Whome love hath linckd to feeble sence ; 
Let Graces rocke, when He doth crye, 
And angells singe His lullybye. 

The same yow sawe in heavenly seate, 
Is He that now suckes Marye's teate ; 
Agnize your Kinge a mortall wighte. 
His borowed weede letts not your sight ; 
Come, kysse the maunger where He lies ; 
That is your blisse aboue the skyes. 

This little babe so fewe dales olde. 
Is come to rifle Satan's foulde ; 
All hell doth at His presence quake, 
Though He Him self for cold do shake ; 
For in this weake unarmed wise 
The gates of hell He will surprise. 

"With teares He fightes and wynnes the feild, 
His naked breste standes for a sheilde. 
His battering shott are babishe cryes, 
His arrowes, lookes of weepinge eyes, 
His martiall ensignes, colde and neede, 
And feeble fleshe His warrier's steede. 


His campe is pitched in a stall, 

His bulwarke but a broken wall. 

The cribb His trench, hay-stalkes His stakes, 

Of shepeherdes He His muster makes ; 

And thus, as sure His foe to wounde, 

The angells' trumpes alarum sounde. 

My soule, with Christ joyne thow in fighte ; 
Sticke to the tents that He hath pight ; 
Within His cribb is sureste warde, 
This little babe will be thy garde ; 
If thow wilt foyle thy foes with joye. 
Then flitt not from this heavenly boye. 


In St. i. line 6, Turnbull misprints ' faults,' emptying the 
expressiveness : st. ii. line 5, Tobit vi. 3-5 : in st. iii. line G, I 
adopt 'his' for 'this' from 1596: in st. iv. line 3, 'agnize' is 
^acknowledge or recognize: line 4, letts not = hinders not: 
in st. vii. line 2 there is a B placed opposite in our ms.— why, 
I know not : in same, line 3, Turnbdll misprints ' His' for 
' The :' ih. stakes = used defensively in the manner of palisades 
and the like : in st. viii. line 2, 1596 reads ' dight' for ' pight;' 
the latter = pitched : line 6 in 1596 reads ' the' for ' this.' G. 




The original title-page of Maeoniae is given opposite this ; 
and for our exemplar of the exceedingly rare volume, I owe 
thanks to the authorities of Jesus College, Oxford. For the 
bihliography of MiTBoniae see our Preface. 

As before in MjTtae, I continue the arrangement of 1596, 
save that under Mgeoniae will be found certain poems that be- 
long to this division rather than to the other ; as pointed out 
in relative notes, and in the Epistle below. 

The basis of our text is the Stonyhuest ms. : and in Notes 
and Illustrations at the close of each poem, as in the others, are 
various readings, &c. 

The following Epistle from 1595 Mseoniaj will best find place 
here : 

' The Printer to the Gentlemen Readers. — Hauing beheld 
(kind Gentlemen) the numberlesse ludges of not to be reckoned 
labom's, with what kind admiration you haue entertained the 
Diuine Complaint of holy Peter ; and hauing in my hands cer- 
taine especiall Poems and diuine Meditations, full as woorthie, 
belonging to the same, I thought it a charitable deede to giue 
them life in your memories, which els should die in an obscure 
sacrifice. Gently imbrace them, gentle censurers of gentle in- 
deuors : so shall you not be fantastike in diuersity of opinions, 
nor contradict your resolues by denying your former iudgements, 
but stiU bee your selues discreetely vertuous : nor could I other 
wish but that the courteous reader of these labors, not hauing 
already bought Peter's Complaint, would not for so small a mite 
of money loose so rich a treasure of heauenly wisdome as these 
two treatises should minister unto him, the one so needfully 
depending vpon the other. One thing amongst the rest I am 
to admonish thee of, that hauing in this treatise read Marie's 
Visitation, the next that should follow is Christ's Natiuity; but 
being afore printed in the end of Peter's Complaint, we haue 
heere of purpose omitted : that thoii shouldest not be abridged 
of that and the other like comforts which that other treatise 
profereth thee. Your's (kind Gentlemen) in all his abilities. 
I[ohn] B[usbie].' 

Collation: title-page and epistle, 4 pp. ; Poems, pp. 32 (4to). 



excellent Poems and Spiri- 
tual! Hymnes : 

Omitted in the last Impression of Peters 
Complaint; being fieedefull there- 
vnto to be annexed, as being both Di- 
uine a?id Wittie. 

All composed by R. S. 

Printer's ornament. 


Printed by Valentine Sims, for 
John Biisbie. 



Our second Eve putts on her mortall shrowde, 

Earth breedes a heaven for God's new dwelling- 
place ; 

Nowe ryseth upp Elias' little cloude, 

That growing shall distill the shoure of grace ; 

Her being now begins, who, ere she ende, 

Shall bringe the good that shall our evill amende. 

Both Grace and Nature did their force unite 

To make this babe the summ of all their best ; 

Our most, her lest, our million, but her mite, least 

She was at easyest rate worth all the reste : 

What Grace to men or angeUs God did part, 

Was all united in this infant's hart. 

Fower onely wightes bredd without fault are nam'd. 
And all the rest conceived were in synne ; 

Without both man and wife was Adam fram'd, 
Of man, but not of wife, did Eve beginne ; 

Wife without touch of man Christ's mother was, 

Of man and wife this babe was bredd in grace. 


In 1596 this is headed ' The Virgine Marie's Conceptiou.' 
St. i. line 4, Turnbull misprints ' showers' for ' shoure ;' 
and line 6, 'oitr good' for 'the good.' Cf. on 11. ,3 4 : 

Quot latent miracula 
Fiet haic iiubicula 

In vim magiiam pluvia;. 
Hy. Gaudii primordium, used on Nat. B.V. 
The themes of each of the next stanzas are contained in two 
lines of a later stanza of the same hymn : line 7, ' Tota plena 
gratia:' line 13, ' Tota sine macula.' 

St. ui. line 6, ' hredd :' 1596 reads ' home.' G. 


Jo YE in the risinge of our orient starr, 

That shall bringe forth the Sunne that lent her light ; 

Joy in the peace that shaU conclude our warr, 

And soone rebate the edge of Saton's spight ; 

Load-starr of all engolfd in worldly waves> 

The card and compasse that from shipwracke saves. 

The patriark and prophettes were the floures 
Which Tynie by course of ages did distill, 
And cidld into this little cloude the shoures 
Whose gracious droppes the world with joy shall fill ; 
Whose nioysture suppleth every soule with grace, 
And bringeth life to Adam's dyinge race. 


For God, on Earth, she is the royall throne, 
The chosen cloth to make His niortall weede ; 
The quarry to cutt out our Corner-stone, 
Soyle fuU of fruite, yet free from mortall seede ; 
For heavenly floure she is the Jesse redd 
The childe of man, the parent of a God. 


St. i. line 1, ' Ave maris stella,' hymn at VeBpers of F. of the 
Holy Rosary, &c. : ' Stella maris,' of hymn ' Alma Redemptoris :' 
' Stella matutina,' Litany of B.V. or Litany of Loretto ; the 
' steUa maris' being = stella matutina, or the morning-star in 
the East, with a people who had the sea eastward of them. 

Line 2, cf. 

Domum quam inhabitet 
Moxe qua nos visitet, 
Ornat sol justitice, 
Quot micat luminlbus 
Snis Deiis usibus, 
Quod vas fingit glorije. 

Hy. Gaudii, &c. 
Line 3, cf. 

Punda nos in pace, 
Mutans Evse nomen. 

Hy. Ave maris stella. 
Line 4, ' rebate' =hlunt. 
,, 5, 1596 reads 'inclosed' for ' engolfed:' so 1630 also. 
„ 6, cf. St. Peter's Complaint, st. i. line 5, and relative 
note : 1596 and 1630 misprint ' care' for ' card.' 

Line 9, see relative note on the Conception of our Ladie, 
st. i. lines 3-4. 

St. ii. line 3, 1630 and 1634 misprint after 1596 ' call'd,' 
which TuRNBULL repeated. 

Line 11, cf. St. Peter's Complaint, st. Ixxx. line 2. 
St. iii. line 2, our ms. reads ' this ;' but as ' His' is better, 
and is in 1596, I prefer it : 1596 in line 3 reads ' his little.' 
Line 4, 1634, misreads blunderingly, 

' Soile full of, yet free from, aU mortaU seed ;' 
and again Tuenbull perpetuates. Mortal=deadly. 

OUR ladye's spousalls. 119 

Line 5, in AdcU. mss. 10.422 ' Jesse's :' in 1596 and 1630 
' lessa.' Cf. Isaiah xi. It may be noted, that while Auth. 
Vers, reads here ' Branch,' the Vulg. has ' flower,' — ' etjlos de 
radice ascendet.' 

In 1596 the poem is not divided into stanzas, and so through- 
out in this series. The heading is simply ' Her Natiuitie.' G. 


Wife did she live, yet virgin did she die, 
XJntovy^chd of man, yet mother of a sonne ; 

To save herself and childe from fatall lye, 

To end the webb whereof the thredd was spoone, 

In mariage knottes to Josephe she was tyde. 

Unwonted workes with wonted veyles to hide. 

God lent His paradice to Josephe's care, 

Wherein He was to plante the tree of life ; 

His Sonne, of Joseph's childe the title bare, 

Just cause to make the mother Josephe's wife. 

blessM man ! betrothd to such a spouse, 

More blessd to Hve with such a childe in house ! 

Noe carnall love this sacred league procurde, 

All vayne delites Avere farre from their assent ; 

Though both in wedlock bands them selves assurde. 
Yet strait by vow they seald their chast entent : 

Thus had she virgins', wives', and widowes' crowne, 

And by chast childbirth doubled her renowne. 

12U OUR ladie's salutation. 


St. i. line 2, 1596 misreads ' Vntaught' for ' Untowchd.' 
Line 6, 1596 misreads ' wiles' for ' veyles,' and so 1680. 
St. ii. line 5, 1596 reads badly ' betrotb'd too much.' 
St. iii. line 1, 1596 reads ' bis' for ' tbis.' 
Line 3, 1596 reads ' Tbougb both tbemselues,' and so 1630. 
4, 1.596, 1630 and 1634 read ' cbaste' for ' strait ;' and 


Line 5, 1596 and 1630 read ' tbe' for ' sbe.' 

In 1596 tbe heading is simply ' Her Spousalls.' G. 


Spell Eva backe and Ave shall yowe finde, 

Tlie first beganne, the last reversd our harmes ; 

An angell's witching wordes did Eva blynde, 
An angell's Ave disinchauntes the charmes : 

Death first by woeman's weakenes entred in, 

In woeman's vertue life doth nowe beginn. 

vhgin brest ! the heavens to thee inclyne, 
In thee their joy and soveraigne they agnize ; 

Too meane their glory is to match with thyne, 

Whose chaste receite God more then heaven did prize. 

Hayle fayrest heaven, that heaven and earth dost blisse. 

Where vertewes starres, God sonne of justice is ! sv,n 

OUR ladie's salutation. 121 

"With hauty mynd to Godhead man aspird, 

And was by pride from place of pleasure chasd ; 

Witli lovinge mind our manhead God desird, 
And us by love in greater pleasure placd ; 

Man labouring to ascend procurd our fall, 

God yelding to descend cut off our thrall. 


St. i. line 1, see relative note on Our Ladie's Natiuitie, 
St. i. line 3, and also Coventry Mysteries, p. 112, line IG (Sliaks. 
Soc), ' Here this name Eva is turned Ave,' and Halliwell's note, 
11. 412. The quotation from Coventry Mysteries is given incor- 
rectly in Collier, Hist. Dram. p. ii. 176. Cf . also Audaeni Epigi-. 
ill. 46. 

St. ii. lines 1-2, our ms. here and elsewhere reads ' the' for 
' thee,' and ' to' for ' too.' Throughout I give the present forms, 
as in 1596 and other early and later editions. 

Line 2, 1596 misreads 'In thee they joy;' and so 1630 in 
error. ' Agnize'=acknowledge. 

Line 5, 1596, 1630 and 1634 read ' did' for ' dost.' 
,, 6, our MS. reads ' starres' inadvertently. 

St. iii. line 4, Tubnbull misprints 'And as by love' for ' us.' 

In 1596 the heading is ' The Virgin's Salutation.' This poem 
bears throughout, as does The Visitation, recollections of the 
hymn ' Gaudii,' &c. as elsewhere. 


When Christ, by grouth, disclosed His descent 
Into the pure receite of Marye's breste, 

Poore Joseph, straunger yet to God's intent, 

"With doubtes of jelious thoughtes was sore opprest ; 

And, Avrought with divers fittes of feare and love, 

He nether can her free nor fanltye prove. 

N"ow Sence, the wakefull spie of jelious mynde, 
By stronge conjectures deemeth her defilde ; 

But Love, in dome of thinges best loved, blynde, 

Thinkes rather Sence deceiv'd then her with child ; 

Yet procfes so pregnant were, that no pretence 

Could cloake a thinge so cleare and playne to sence. 

Then Joseph, daunted with a deadly wounde, 
Let loose the reynes to undeserved greife ; 

His hart did throbb, his eyes in teares were drounde. 
His life a losse, death seem'd his best releife ; 

The pleasing relis of his former love reli-^h 

In gallish thoughtes to bitter tast doth prove. 

josephe's amazement. 123 

One foote lie often setteth forth of doore, 

But t'other's loth uncerten wayes to treade ; 

He takes his fardell for his needefull store, 

He casts his inn, where first he meanes to bead ; 

But still ere he can frame his feete to goe, 

Love Avynneth tyme till all conclude in noe. 

Sometyme, greif addinge force, he doth depart, 
He will, against his will, keepe on his pace ; 

But straight remorse so rackes his ruing hart, 

That hasting thoughtes yeld to a pawsing space ; 

Then mighty reasons presse him to remayne, 

She whome he flyes doth winne him home againe. 

But when his thought, by sight of his aboade, 
Presentes the signe of mysesteemed shame, 

Eepenting every step]) that backe he trode, 

Teares drowne the guides, the tongue the feete doth 
blame ; 

Thus warring with himself, a feilde he fightes. 

Where every wounde upon the giver lightes. 

And was (quoth he) my love so lightly prysed 1 
And was our sacred league so soone forgott 1 

Could vowes be voyde, could vertues be despisd 1 
Could such a spouse be staynd with such a spott 1 

wretched Joseph ! that hast livd so longe, 

Of faithfull love to reape so grevous wronge ! 

124 ' josephb's amazement. 

Could such a worme breede in so sweete a Avood 1 
Coulde ill so chast demeanure lincke untruth 1 

Could Vice lye hidd where Vertue's image stoode 1 
Where hoary sagenes graced tender youthe 1 

Where can afFyance rest, to rest secure ] 

In Vertue's fayrest seat faithe is not sure. 

All proofes did promise hope a pledge of grace, 
AVliose good might have repaide the deepest ill ; 

Sweete signes of purest thoughtes in saintly face 
Assurd the eye of her unstayned will. 

Yett, in this seeminge lustre, seeme to lye 

Such crymes for which the lawe condemns to die. 

But Josephe's word shall never worke her woe : 
I -vvishe her leave to live, not dome to dye ; 

Though fortune myne, yett am I not her foe, 
She to her self lesse lovinge is then I : 

The most I will, the lest I can, is this, least 

Sithe none may salve, to shunne that is amisse. 

Exile my home, the wildes shall be my walke, 

Complainte my joye, my rausicke mourninge layes ; 

With pensive greives in silence will I talke, 

Sad thoughtes shalbe my guides in sorowe's wayes : 

This course best suites the care of curelesse mynde, 

That seekes to loose what raoste it joy'd to finde. 

josephe's amazement. 125 

Like stocked tree whose braunches all do fade, 
Whose leaves do fall and perisht fruite decaie ; 

Like herb that growes in colde and barrayne shade, 
Where darkenes drives all qnickninge heate away ; 

So dye must I, cutt from my roote of joye, 

And throwen in darkest shades of deepe annoye. 

But who can fly from that his harte doth feele 1 

What chaunge of place can change implanted payne? 

Kemovinge moves no hardnes from the Steele ; 

Sicke hartes, that shift no fittes, shift roomes in vayne. 

Where thought can see, what helpes the closed eye ? 

Where hart pursues, what gaynes the foote to'Sye? 

Yett still I tredd a maze of dovibtfull end ; 

I goe, I come, she drawes, she drives away ; 

She woundes, she heales, she doth both marr and mend. 

She makes me seeke and shunn, depart and stay ; 
She is a frende to love, a foe to loathe, 
And in suspence I hange betwene them both. 


St. i. line 2, ' receite'=place of receipt, as in sitting at the 
receipt of custom, St. Matthew ix. 9, &c. Cf. The Visitation, 
St. iii. line 3, and Sinne's Heavy Load, st. iv. line 2. See also 
with relation to the meaning of ' receipt' and ' brest,' Joseph's 
Amazement, st. i. line 2. 

St. ii. line 3, ' dome' = doom or judgment. 

St. iii. line 6, the word ' gallish' shows that our text from 
our MS., and as in 1596 as well as in Addl. iiss. 10.422, is right, 
and the emendation in Turnbull, an impertinence and wrong. 


which reads ' in taste doth bitter prove.' Our Poet was thinking 
of ' it was in my mouth as sweet as honey, and as soon as I 
had eaten it, my belly was bitter,' — amaricatus est venter 
meus. Apoc. x. 10. 

St. iv. line 3, fardell =: burden. 

Line 4, casts ^ determines in his mind. Richardson s. v. 
derives this sense of it from wi-estling ; but it is simpler to con- 
sider it as either a soothsaying or gaming sense, taken from 
the casting of lots or dice, or from the ' casting' of nativities. 
Bead is = bed, i.e. sleep. 

St. V. line 3, 1596 reads ' raging' for ' ruing.' 

St. vi. line 4, 1596 reads stupidly ' done the guide.' 

St. ix. line 5. Our ms. is corrected by S. It originally stood 
as a word of five letters, probably 'luste,' and is changed to 
' lustre' (apparently) as in 1596. 

St. X. line 3, perhaps we have here a reference, if not a quo- 
tation, from the song ' Fortune my foe, why dost thou frown on 
me ?' and it is the more applicable that this song ' is a sweet 
sonnet, wherein the lover exclaims against Fortune for the loss 
of his lady's favour, almost past hope to get it again.' 

Line 5, Tuenbull misiwints ' less :' lest =: least. 

St. xii. line 1, to ' stock" a tree is to cut it down, so as to 
leave a ' stock' on which to gi-aff some other, and the reference 
here is to that part of the stock and branches so cut off. 

Line 5, Tuenbull misreads ' So must I die.' G. 


Proclaym^d queene and mother of a God, 

The light of Earth, the soveraigne of saintes. 

With pilgrimm foote upp tyring hills she trodd, 

And heavenly stile vpith handmayds' toyle acquaints : 

Her youth to age, her helth to sicke she lends. 

Her hart to God, to neighhour hand she bendes. 


A prince she is, and mightier prince doth beare, 

Yet pompe of princely trayne she would not have ; 

But doubtles heavenly quires attendant were, 

Her child from harme, her self from fall to save : 

Worde to the voyce, songe to the tune she bringes, 

The voyce her word, the tune her ditye singes. 

Eternall lightes inclosed in her breste 

Shott out such percing beames of burning love, 

That when her voyce her cosen's eares possest 
The force thereof did force her babe to move : 

With secreet signes the children greete ech other, 

But open praise ech leaveth to his mother. 


St. i. line 3, St. Luke i. 39. 

Line 5, 1630 and 1634 misread ' her selfe' for ' her helth :' 
and TuRNBULL repeats the blunder. 

Line 6, St. Luke i. 56. 

St. ii. line 1, 'prince.^ So in the Assumption of our Ladie, 
st. iii. line 2 : a usage not infrequent. 

Lines 5-6, St. Luke i. 42. She 'themes' or gives the 
words in which the voice of Elizabeth finds expression, and 
thus gives articulate song to the joyful time. ' Word' in line 
5 is probably used in a double sense — Southwell being al- 
most as fond of such double uses as Shakespeare — and her 
' ditty' is both her song- words and the song about her, or made 
in her praise. 

St. iii. line 1, see relative note on Our Ladle's Salutation, 
st. i. line 2. 

Addl. Mss. 10.422 differs only in orthographic changes. G. 


Eehould the father is His daughter's sonne, 

The bird that built the nest is hatchd therein, 

The old of yeres an hower hath not outrunne, 
Eternall life to live doth nowe beginn, 

The Worde is dunim, the Mirth of heaven doth weepe, 

Mighte feeble is, and Force doth fayntely creepe. 

dyinge soules ! behould your living springe ! 

dazeled eyes ! behould your sunne of grace ! 
Dull eares, attend what word this Word doth bringe ! 

Upp, heavy hartes, with joye your joy embrace ! 
From death, from darke, from deaphnesse, from des- 

This Life, this Light, this Word, this Joy repaires. 

Gift better then Him self God dotli not knowe. 
Gift better then his God no man can see ; 

This gift doth here the giver given bestowe. 
Gift to this gift lett ech receiver bee : 

God is my gift, Him self He freely gave me, 

God's gift am I, and none but God shall have me. 


Man altred was by synn from man to best ; ■ heast 
Beste's foode is haye, haye is all mortall fleslie ; 

Now God is fleshe, and lyes in mannger prest, 
As haye the brutest synner to refreshe : 

happy feilde wherein this foder grewe, 

Wliose taste doth us from beastes to men renewe ! 


In his Epistle ' To the Gentlemen Readers' the printer 
(John BusWe), introducing Maeonic-e (1595), says, ' One thing 
amongst the rest I am to admonish thee of, that hauing in this 
treatise read Marie's Visitation, the next that should follow is 
Christ's Natuity ; hut being afore printed in the end of Peter's 
Complaint, we have heere of purpose omitted ; that thou should- 
est not he abridged of that and the other like comforts, which 
that other treatise profereth thee.' Tuenbtill so places the 
present poem ; but in so doing reveals he had never seen, or at 
least never used, the 1595 edition. 

In st. ii. line 2, our ms. inadvertently reads ' summe' for 
' sunne' of 1596, &c. 

St. iii. lines 17-18, that is the gift bestowed on me— that 
which is mine now, but is essentially a gift from another ; and 
so next line — God's gift am I — is, I am the gift which I have 
given to God. So elsewhere, ' His angels' gifts' = His gifts to 
angels, as noted in the place. 

St. iv. line 2, ' Omnis caro fenum,' Is. xl. 6 and Ps. cii. 15 
(ciii. Auth. Vers.), and all the parallel passages, give 'hay,' ex- 
cept Ps. Ixxxix. (xc.) 5, which has ' herba,' as there required. 

Line 3, Turnbull similarly misprints ' lives' for ' lyes.' G. 


The head is launc'd to worke the bodie's cure, 

With angring salve it smartes to healc our wounde ; 

To faltlesse Sonne, from all offences pure, 
The falty vassall's scourges do redounde ; 

The judge is cast, the guilty to acquite. 

The Sonne defac'd, to lende the starre his lighte. 

The Vine of life distilleth droppes of grace, 
Our rock gives yssue to a heavenly springe ; 

Teares from His eyes, blood runnes from wounded place, 
Wliich showers, to heaven, of joy a harvest bringe : 

This sacred deaw let angells gather upp, 

Such deynty droppes best fitt their nectared cupp. 

With weeping eyes His mother reu'd His smart, 

If bloode from Him, teares rann from her as fast ; 

The knife that cutt His fleshe did perce her hart, 
The payne that Jesus felt did Marye tast ; 

His .life and her's hunge by one fatall twiste. 

No blowe that hitt the Sonne the mother miste. 



St. i. lines 1-4, said, perhaps, with reference to the earthly- 
royal custom by which a vassal whipping-boy was scourged for 
the faults of the heir. 

St. ii. line 1, 1590 ed. coiTects our ms. and 1634 — the latter 
blindly followed by Tuknbull — in reading, as in 1630 also, 
' Vine' for ' vein.' 

Line 3, 1634, and so Turnbull, reads ' streames' for ' runnes.' 
,, 4, With = whose or which. 

St. iii. lines 2-4, in 1596 are very inaccurate, reading ' came' 
for ' rann,' ' his' for ' her heart,' and ' set' for ' felt.' 

Line 5, fatal. Latinate, in so far as it contains the sense of 
appointed (or spun) by destiny. So in Virgil and Cicero. 

In 1596 the heading is ' His Circumcision.' G. 


To blase the rising of this glorious sunne, 
A glittringe starre appeareth in the Easte, 

Whose sight to pilgrimm-toyles three sages wunne 
To seeke the light they long had in requeste ; 

And by this starre to nobler starr they pase, 

Whose armes did their desired sunne embrace. 

Stall was the skye wherein these pianettes shynde, 
And want the cloude that did eclipse their rayes ; 

Yet tlirough this cloude their light did passage finde, 
And percd these sages' harts by secrett waies, 

Which made them knowe the Ruler of the skyes, 

By infant tongue and lookes of babish eyes. 



Heaven at her light, Ejxrth bhisheth at her pride, 
And of their pompe these peeres ashamed he ; 

Their crownes, their robes, their trayne they sett aside, 
When God's poore cotage, clowtes, and crewe, they 

All glorious thinges their glory nowe dispise, [see ; 

Sith God contempt, doth more then glory prize. 

Three giftes they bringe, three giftes they beare awaye ; 

For incense, myrrho and gould, faith, hope and love ; 
And with their giftes the givers' hartes do staye, 

Their mynde from Christ no parting can remove ; 
Ilis humble state, his stall, his poore retynewe, 
They phansie more then all theire ritch revenewe. 


In Bt. i. line 1, blase = to blaze, or to blaze abroad or pub- 
lish, is probably drawn from the use of beacou-fires and the like 
as messengers of news: line 3, 1596 reads 'pilgi-ims' toile:' 
line 7, the transition to this thought is so natural, that South- 
well may or may not have had in his mind that legend several 
times repeated in the apocryphal Gospels, that a bright light 
filled the cave when Jesus was born, especially in the Gospel 
of James, where it is said ' a bright cloud overshadowed the 
cave . . .and suddenly the cloud withdi-ew, and there appeared 
a great light in the cave, so that their eyes could not bear it.' 
As a Protestant, it is noticeable to me that Southwell is ex- 
ceptionally free from references to legends. In st. ii. line 6, 
TuKNBULL misprints 'infant's:' in st. iv. line 1, 'brought' for 
' b)-inge ;' and line 2, actually ' mirth' for ' myrrhe.' Lines 5-6, ' re- 
venewe.' There seem to have been two pronunciations of ' re- 
venue' in Southwell's time, and probably two of ' retinue.' In 
Midsummer Night's Dream ' revenue' and ' revenue' occur in the 
same scene (i. 1) ; and in the verse of his plays 'revenue' occurs 
ten times, and ' ri'venue" six ; nor is there any change in his 


earlier or later usage, nor anything to indicate that one was 
more courtly or more impressive or poetic than the other. In 
the one case in which he uses 'retinue' in verse (Lear, i. -4) the 
emphasis on ' insolent' requires ' retinue' or ' ret'nue.' The 
penultimate accentuation is from the older and fuller French 
forms 'revenue' and 'retenue,' and both nations in adopting the 
shorter forms have thrown back the accent. G. 


To Le redeeni'd the world's Eedeenier brought, 
Two selye turtle-doves, for ransome payes ; 

Oh ! ware with empyres worthy to be bought, 

This easye rate doth sounde, not drowne Thy praise ! 

For sith no price can to Thy worth amounte, 

A dove, yea love, dew price Thou dost accountc. 

Old Simeon cheap penyworth and sweete 

Obteyn'd, when Thee in armes he did embrace ; 

His weeping eyes Thy smyling lookes did meete. 
Thy love his hart, Thy kisses blissd his face : 

eyes ! hart ! meane sightes and loves avoyde, 

'Base not your selves, your best you have enjoy'd ! 

virgin pure ! tho\i dost these doves presente 
As due to lawe, not as an equall price ; 

To buy such ware thou would'st thy life have spente ; 
The worlde to reach His worth coulde not suffice ; 

If God were to be bought, not worldly pelfe, 

But thou, wert fittest price next God Him self. 



In St. i. line 3, 1596 reads ' wares :' in st. iii. line 3, ' thy 
self for ' thy life.' In st. ii. line 1, ' cheap pennyworth' was an 
ordinary and usual phrase for a cheap or good cheap bargain. 
St. i. lines 1-2 = the world's Redeemer brought to be redeemed, 
payes two selye turtle-doves for ransome. G. 


Alas ! our Day is forc'd to flye by iiighte ! 

Light "without light, and sunne by silent shade. 
O Nature, blushe ! that suffrest such a wighte, 

That in thy sunne this dark eclipse hath made ; 
Day to his eyes, light to his steppes denye. 
That hates the light which graceth every eye. 

Sunne being fledd the starres do leese their light, 
And shyninge beanies in bloody streames they 

A cruell storme of Herod's mortall spite [drenche ; 
Their lives and lightes with bloody shoures doth 

The tiran to be sure of murdringe one, [quench : 

For feare of sparinge Him doth pardon none. 

blessed babes ! first flowers of Christian Springe, 
Who though untymely cropt fayre garlandes frame, 

With open throates and silent mouthes you singe 
His praise, Whome age permitts you not to name ; 

Your tunes are teares, your instrumentes are swordes, 

Your ditye death, and bloode in Hew of wordes ! 

christe's retorne out of egipt. 135 


In St. i. line 3, ' wight' = Herod. Line 4, 1596 reads 
' hast:' st. ii. line 1, ' loose' for ' leese;' probably therefore — 
' lease,' i. e. ' to lose,' for in the old philosophy all the stars re- 
ceived their light from the sun. The metaphor scarcely applies 
if ^ less: line 4, I have adopted 'do' for 'doth:' st. iii. line 3, 
both followed the conceits of their ago, but cf. Antony in Julius 
Cajsar, iii. 1 and iii. 2. G. 


When Death and Hell their right in Herode clayme, 
Clirist from exile returnes to natyve soyle, 

There with His life more deepely Death to may me, 
Then Death did life by all the infantes spoyle. 

He shewd the parentes that their babes did mone, 

That all their lives were lesse then His alone. 

But hearing Herod's sonne to have the crowne ; 

An impious offspring of a bloodye syre ; 
To Nazareth (of heaven beloved) towne, 

Flower to a floure, He fittly doth retyre ; 
For floure He is and in a floure He bredd, 
And from a thorne nowe to a floure He fledd. 

And well deservd this floure His fruite to vew, 
Where He invested was in mortal! weede ; 

Wliere first unto a tender budd He grewe, 

In virgin branch unstaynd with mortall seede : 

136 christe's childhoode. 

Yonge floure, with floures in floure well may He be, 
Ripe fruitc, He must with thornes hange on a tree. 


In St. i. line 4, ' spoyle' = rob : line 5, 1596 badly mis- 
prints ' the' for ' tlieii- :' st. ii. line 2, reads ' The' for ' An :' 
line 5, 'For He is a flower:' very badly, and followed by Tuen- 
BULL, 'throne' for ' thorne:' st. iii. line 3, ' into' for 'unto.' In 
our MS. in the margin explanatory of the play on the word 
' flower' is this note, ' Nazareth signifieth a flower.' So Isaiah 
xii. in Vulg. as before noted. Nazareth has been supposed to 
be derived from some dialectic variation of Nitza or Netzer, 
Hebrew for ' flower,' the town being situated in the most fertile 
and beautiful part of Judea. The Virgin is called a ' flower' ac- 
cording to the name ' Kosa mystica' in the Litany of B.V. G. 


Till twelve yeres' age, how Christ His childhood spent 
All eartlily pennes unworthy were to write ; 

Such actes to mortall eyes He did presente, 

Whose Avorth not men but angells must recite : 

No nature's blottes, no childish faultes defilde. 

Where Grace was guide, and God did play the cliilde. 

In springing lockes lay couched hoary witt, 

In semblance younge, a grave and auncient port ; 

In lowly lookes high maiestie did sitt. 

In tender tunge, sound sence of sagest sort : 

Nature imparted all that she could teache, 

And God supply d where Nature coulde not reach. 

Christ's bloody sweate. 137 

His mirth, of modest meane a mirrhour was, 
His sadnes, tempred with a mylde aspecte ; 

His eye, to trye ech action was a glasse, 

"Whose lookes did good approue and bad correct ; 

His nature's giftes. His grace. His word, and deede. 

Well shew'd that all did from a God proceede. 


TuRNBULL in St. ii. line 1 wi-etchecUy misprints ' crouched' 
for ' couched:' line 2, I adopt ' semhlance' from 1596 for ' scm- 
blant.' G. 


Fatt soyle, full springe, sweete olive, grape of blesse, 
That yeldes, that streames, that poures, that dost 
ITntild, undrawne, unstampde, untouchd of presse, 
Deere fruit, clere brookes, fayre oyle, sweete wine at 
will ! 
Thus Christ unforcd preventes, in shedding bloode, 
The whippes, the thornes, the nayles, the speare, and 

He pelican's, he phoenix' fate doth prove, [die : 

Wliome flames consume, whome streames enforce to 

How burneth blood, how bleedeth burninge love, 

Can one in flame and streame both bathe and frye 1 

How coidde He joyne a phoenix' fyerye paynes 

In faynting pelican's still bleeding vaynes ? 


138 christe's sleeping frendes. 

Elias once, to prove God's soveraigne poure, 
By praire procurd a fier of wondrous force, 

That blood and wood and water did devoure, 

Yea stones and dust beyonde all I^ature's course : 

Such fire is love, that, fedd with gory bloode, 

Doth burno no lesse then in the dryest woode. 

sacred fire ! come shewe thy force on me, 

That sacrifice to Christe I maye retorne : 
If withered wood for fuell fittest bee, 

If stones and dust, yf fleshe and bloode will burne, 

1 withered am, and stonye to all good, 

A sacke of dust, a masse of fleshe and bloode. 


St. i. line 5, 'prevents' ^forestalls. 

St. ii. line 4. On ' frye,' see our Crashaw, vol. i. p. 118, and 
relative note. G. 


When Christ, with care and pangues of death opprest, 
From frighted fleshe a bloody sweate did rayne, 

And, full of feare, without repose or reste, 
In agonye did praye and watche in payne ; 

Three sundry tymes He His disciples findes 

With heavy eyes, but farre more heavy myndes. 

christe's sleeping frendes. 139 

With milde rebuke He warned them to wake, 
Yet sleepe did still their drowsy sences hoiild, 

As when the sunne the brightest shewe doth make, 
In darkest shroudes the night-birdes them infold : 

His foes did watehe to Avorke their cruell spight, 

His drowsye frendes slept in His hardest plighte. 

As Jonas sayled once from Joppe's shoare 

A boystrous tempest in the ayre did broyle, 

The waves did rage, the thundring heavens did rore, 
The stormes, the rockes, the lightninges threatned 
spoyle ; 

The shipp was billowes' game and chaunce's prayc, 

Yet careles Jonas mute and sleepinge laye. 

So now, though Judas, hke a blustringe gust. 
Do stirre the furious sea of Jeweshe ire. 

Though storming troopes, in quarrells most unjust, 
Against the barke of all our blisse conspire, 

Yett these disciples sleepinge lie secure, 

As though their wonted calme did still endure. 

So Jonas once, his weary lymmes to reste. 

Did shroude him self in pleasant ivy shade, 

But loe ! while him a heavye sleepe opprest. 

His shadowy boure to withered stalke did fade ; 

A canckered worme had gnawen the roote away. 

And brought the glorious brannches to decaye. 

140 christe's sleeping frendes. 

O gratious plante ! tree of heavenly sj^ringe ! 

The paragon for leafe, for fruite and floure, 
How sweete a shadow did Thy braunches bringe 

To shroude these soules that chose Thee for their 
boure ! 
But now while they with Jonas fall asleepe, 
To spoyle their plant an envious worme doth creepe. 

Awake, ye slumbring Avightes ! lift upp your eyes, 
Marke Judas, how to teare your roote he strives ; 

Alas ! the glory of your arbour dyes, 

Arise and gard the comfort of your lives ; 

No Jonas' ivye, no Zacheus' tree, 

Were to the world so greate a losse as Hee. 


St. ii. line 4, Tuknbull misprints ' darkness' for ' darkest.' 

Line 6, 1596 reads ' night' for ' plight,' and so 1630. 

St. iii. Hue 5. Our ms. misreads ' gaiue' for ' game' of 1596 : 
latter adopted. 

St. iv. line 4, one of Turnbull's most vexatious misprints 
is ' backe' for ' barke.' 

St. V. line 1, 1596 reads ' heauy' for ' weary.' 

Line 2, 1596 reads ' in iuy pleasant.' Jerome translated 
Jonah's kikayon as hedera (though he did not put it forth as an 
exact rendering), and he thereby raised a storm in one diocese at 
least, where' the older ciiciirbita was upheld as orthodox against 
the new heretical upstart. However, ' hedera' is retained in the 
present Vulgate. It is perhaps needless to add that the now 
commonly received opinion is, that it is the castor-oil plant, or 
ti"ee as it may be sometimes called. 

Line 5, Tuknbull reads ' A canker-worm :' 1596, ' did' for 
' had.' G. 



What mist hath dimd that glorious face? what seas of 

griefe my sun doth tossel 
The golden raies of heauenly grace Hes now ecclips^d 

on the crosse. 

lesus! my loue, my Sonne, my God, behold Thy mother 

washt in teares : 
Thy bloudie woundes he made a rod to chasten these 

my latter yearcs. 

You cruell lewes, come worke your ire, vpon this worth- 

lesse flesh of mine : 
And kindle not eternall fire, by wounding Him which 

is diuine. 

Thou messenger that didst impart His first discent into 

my wombe, 
Come helpe me now to cleaue my heart, that there I 

may my Sonne intombe. 

. Curiously enousli this poem is cot in our MS. nor in AdJl. 
Mss. 10.422 or Haeleian ms. 6921. Our text is from 1596. Cx. 


You angels all, that present were, to shew His birth 

with harmonie; 
Whj are you not now readie here, to make a mourning 

symphony 1 

The cause I know, you waile alone and shed your teares 

in secresie, 
Least I should moued be to mone, by force of heauie 


But waile my soule, thy comfort dies, my wofull wombe, 

lament thy fruit; 
My heart, giue teares unto my eies, let Sorrow string 

my heauy lute. 


Weepe, living thinges, of life the mother dyes ; 

The world doth loose the summ of all her blisse. 
The queue of Earth, the empresse of the skyes ; 

By Marye's death mankind an orphan is : 
Lett Nature weepe, yea, lett all graces mone. 
Their glory, grace, and giftes dye all in one. 

' TuENBULL printed this poem from Atlcll. mss. 10.422, biit 
showed his usual incapacity even to transcribe, by reading st. 
iii. line 5, 

' Such eyed the Hght thy beams mitimely shine ;' 

the nonsense of which he discerned not. The ms. 10.422 differs 
only orthogi-aphically (slightly). I place this poem here, as 
belonging to the series on Mary. G. 


It was no death to he^, but to her woe, 

By which her joyes beganne, her greives did end ; 
Death was to her a frende, to us a foe, 

Life of whose lives did on her life depende : 
l^ot pray of death, but praise to death she was, 
Whose uglye shape seemd glorious in her face. 

Her face a heaven, two pianettes were her eyes, 
Whose gracious hght did make our clearest day ; 

But one such heaven there was and loe ! it dyes, 
Deathe's darke eclipse hath dymmed every ray : 

Sunne, hide thy light, thy beames untymely shine ! 

Trew light sith wee have lost, we crave not thine. 


If sinne be captive, grace must finde release ; 

From curse of synne the innocente is free ; 
Tombe, prison is for sinners that decease, 

No tombe, but throne to guiltles doth agree : 
Though thralles of sinne lye lingring in their grave. 
Yet faultles cors, with soide, rewarde must have. 

' TuKNBULL printed this from Addl. iiss. 10.422. Our ms. 
differs only in orthogi-aphy, and st. i. line 5 reads ' theii-' for 
' the.' As with the preceding, I give this poem here as lis fit- 
ting place. G. 


The daseled eye doth dynimcd light require, 

And dying sightes repose in shrowdinge shades ; 

But eagles' eyes to brightest light aspire, 
And living lookes delite in loftye glades : 

Faynte winged foule hy ground doth fayntly flye, 

Our princely eagle mountes unto the skye. 

Gemm to her worth, spouse to her love ascendes, 

Prince to her throne, queene to her heavenly Kinge, 

Whose court with solemne pompe on her attends. 

And quires of saintes with greeting notes do singe ; 

Earth rendreth upp her undeserved praye, 

Heaven claymes the right, and beares the prize awaye. 


Laiida Sion Salvatorem. 

Praise, O Syon ! praise thy Saviour, 
Praise thy captayne and thy pastour, 

With hymnes and solemne harmony. 
What pour affordes, performe in dede ; j30?;w/' 
His worthes all prayses farre exceede, 

No praise can reach His dignity e. 


A speciall theme of praise is redd, 
A livingc and life-givinge bredd, 

Is on this day exhibited ; 
Which in the Supper of our Lorde, 
To twelve disciples at His borde, 

None doubtes but was delivered. 

Lett our praise be loude and free, 
Full of joye and decent glee, 

With myndes' and voyces' melodye ; 
For now solemnize wee that daye, 
Which doth with joye to us displaye 

The prime use of this mistery. 

At this borde of our newe Ruler 
Of newe lawe, newe paschall order 

The auncient rite abolisheth ; 
Old decrees by newe anulled, 
Shadowes are in truthes fullfilled, 

Day former darkenes finisheth. 

That at Supper Christ performed, 
To be donne He straightly charged 

For His eternall memorye. 
Guided by His sacred orders, 
Bredd and wyne upon our alters 

To savin" boast we sanctifie. 


Christians are by faithe assured 
That to flesh the bredd is chaunged, 

The Avyne to bloode most pretious : 
That no witt nor sence conceiveth, 
Firnie and grounded faithe beleeveth, 

In strange effects not curious. 

Under kyndes two in appearance, 
Two in shewe but one in substance, 

Lye thinges beyond comparison ; 
Flesh is meate, bloode drinck most heavenly, 
Yett is Christe in eche kynde wholye, 

Most free from all division. 

None that eateth Him doth chewe Him, 
None that takes Him doth devide Him^ 

Eeceivd, He whole persevereth. 
Be there one or thowsandes housled, 
One as much as all received, 

HE by no eating perisheth. 

Both the good and badd receive Him, 
But efifectes are divers in them, 

Trew life or dewe distruction. 
Life to the good, death to the wicked, 
Marke how both alike received 

With farre unlike conclusion. 


When the preiste the hoaste devideth, 
Knowe that in ecli parte abideth 

All that the whole hoast covered. 
Forme of bredd, not Christ is broken, 
Not of Christ, but of His token, 

Is state or stature altered. 

Angells' bredd made pilgrims feedinge, 
Trewly bread for childrens eatinge. 

To doggs not to be offered. 
Signed by Isaake on the alter. 
By the lambe and paschall supper. 

And in the manna figured. 

Jhesu, foode and feeder of us, 
Here with mercy, feed and frend us, 

Then graunt in heaven felicity ! 
Lord of all, Avhome here Thou feedest, 
Fellowes, lieyres, guestes with Thy dearest, 

Make us in heavenly companye ! Amen. 


In 1596 the title is simply 'A holy Hymne :' in 1630 'Au 
holy Hymne.' 

St. i. line 5, 1596 reads ' workes' for ' worthes :' so 1630. 

St. ii. line 4, 1596 and 1630 read ' Within' for ' Which in.' 

Line 6, ib. read ' As doubtlesse 'twas deliuered.' 

St. iii. line 2, ' decent.' 

Line 6, 1596 misprints ' priuie' and 1630 ' secret' for ' prime 
use.' TuRNBULL strangely reads ' prince.' See below. 


St. iv. line 4, 1596 aud 1630 spell ' annill'iV and ' aunil'd.' 
TuRNBULL misprints ' be' for 'by.' 

St. vi. line 6, 1596 spells ' affects.' In 1G30 the following 
lines are substituted for the next stanzas : 

' As staffe of bread thy lieart sustaines, 
And clieai'efull wine thy strength regaines, 

By power and vertue natural 1 : 
So dotli this consecrated food, 
Tlie symbol of Christ' flesh and blond 

By vertue supernaturall. 

Tlie mines of thy soule repaire, 
Banisli sinne, liorrour and despaire, 
And feed faith, by faith receiued : 
Angels' bread,' &c. 

St. vii. line 3, 1596 reads ' Be' for ' Lye.' 

St. viii. line 3, ' persevereth' used in a kind of reflective 

Line 4, our ms. reads 'hous'led;' Addl. mss. 10.422 'housled,' 
and 1596 ' housoled.' Turnbull reads ' hosted' = given the 
host. Is ' hous'led' = in the house (of God) and at the Supper? 
Or is it parallel (in part) with Shakespeare's ' unhouseled' of 
Hamlet (i. 5) ? 

St. ix. line 3, 1596 reads ' true' for ' dewe.' 

St. X. line 2, 1596 inadvertently drops ' in.' 

St. xi. line 3, cf. St. Matthew vii. 6 and xv. 27. 

Line4, ' signed' =:' prresiguatur,' presigned, foreshadowed or 
prefigured, just as shadowed and figured are used. 

It will be observed that our ms. supplies the lacking syllable 
(' but') in st. ii. line 6, and by its reading makes st. iii. line 6 
agree with the rest. Turnbull blindly printed the former 
' None doubts was delivered,' and the latter ' The prince of this 
mystery,' to the destruction of the measure aud meaning. G. 


If that the siclce may grone, 

Or orphane mourne his losse ; 

If wounded wretch may rue his harnies, 
Or caytif shewe his crosse ; 

If hart consumd with care, 
May utter signes of payne ; 

Then may my brest he Sorowe's home, 
And tongue with cause complayne. 

My nialidye is synne 

And languor of the mynde ; 

My body but a lazar's couche 
Wherein my soule is pynde. 

The care of heavenly kynne, 

Is ded to my releife ; 
Forlorne, and left like orphane child, 

With sighes I fecde my greife. 

I Copy ill Addl. mss. 10.422, only usual ortho^i'iiphic (lillcr- 
euces. G. 

150 SAINT Peter's remorse. 

My woundes, Avitli mortall smarte 
My dying soule tonnente, 

And, prisoner to myue owne misliapps, 
My foUyes I rejiente. 

My hart is but the haunte 

Where all dislikes do keepe ; 

And who can blame so lost a wretche, 
Though teares of bloode he weepe 1 


Eemorse upbraides my faultes ; 

Selfe-blaming conscience cries ; 
Synn claymes the hoast of humbled thoughtes 

And streames of weej^ing eyes : 

Let penance, Lorde, prevayle ; 

Lett sorowe sue release ; 
Lett love be unipier in my cause, 

And passe the dome of peace. 

If dome goe by deserte, 

My lest desert is death ; least 

That robbes from soule, immortall joyes. 

From bodye, murtall bruatlie. 


But in SO highe a God, 

So base a worme's annoy 
Can add no praise unto Thy poure, 

No blisse unto Thy joye. 

Well may I frye in flames, 

Due fuell to hell-fire ! 
But on a wretch to wrcake Thy wrath 

Cannot be worth Thyne ire. 

Yctt sith so vile a worrae 

Hath wrought his greatest spite, 

Of highest treasons well Thou mayst 
In rigour him endite. 

Butt Mercye may relente, 

And temper Justice' rodd, 
For mercy doth as much belonge 

As justice to a Godd. 

If former tyme or place 

More right to mercy wynne, 
Thou first wert author of my self. 

Then umpier of my synne. 

Did Mercye spynn the thredd, 

To weave in Justice' loome 1 
Wert thou a Father, to conclude 

With dreadfull judge's doome ] 

152 SAINT Peter's remorse. 

It is a small releife 

To say I was Thy childe, 

If, as an evell-deserving foe, 
From grace I be exilde. 

I was, I had, I coulde, 

All wordes importing wante ; 

They are Init dust of dead supplies, 
Where needfull helpes ar scaute. 

Once to have bene in blisse 

That hardly can retorne, 
Doth but bewray from whence I fell, 

And wherefore now I mourne. 

All thoughtes of passed hopes 
Encrease my present crosse ; 

Like ruynes of decayed joyes, 
They still upbraide my losse. 

mylde and mighty e Lorde ! 

Amend that is amisse ; 
My synn my sore, Thy love my salve, 
Thy cure my comfort is. 

Confirme Thy former deede, 
Reforme that is defild ; 

1 was, I am, I will remayne 

Thy charge, Thy choise, Thy childe. 



St. i. line 3, ' host'=:hostia, sacrifice. 

St. iii. line 3, Tuenbull misprints ' souls,' losing the anti- 

St. iv. line 2, :=hurt inflicted by God on the worm. 

St. vi. line 3, 1596 ' treason.' 

St. ix. line 3, Tuenbull misprints ' then' for 'thou.' 

St. X. line 3, on ' ill' and ' evill,' see relative note on St. 
Peter's Comx^laint, st. ii. line 5. 

Line 4, 1596, ' am' for ' be.' 

St. XV. 1. 1, 1596 ' deedes.' On st. xi. ' I was [Thy child] , 
I had [Thy gi'ace,] I could [have been a rock] , or I could [have 
attained to bliss] , see St. Matthew xvi. 17. G. 


PLEASANT port ! O placc of rest ! 

royal rift ! worthy Avouiid ! 
Come harbour me, a weary guest, 

That in the world no ease haue found ! 

1 lie lamenting at Thy gate, 

Yet dare I not aduenture in : 
I heare Avith me a troublous mate, 

And cumbred am with heape of sinne. 

Discharge me of this heauy loade, 

That easier passage I may find, 
Within this bowre to make aboade. 

And in this glorious toomb be shrin'd, 



Here must I Hue, here must I die, 
Here would I vtter all my griefe ; 

Here would I all those paines descrie. 
Which here did meete for my releefe. 

Here would I view that bloudy sore, 

Which dint of spiteful speare did breed 

The bloudy woundes laid there in store, 
Would force a stony heart to bleede. 

Here is the spring of trickling teares. 
The mirror of all mourning wights, 

With dolefull tunes for dumpish eares. 

And solemne shewes for sorrowed sights 

(Jli, happie soul, that flies so hie 
As to attaine this sacred caue ! 

Lord, send me wings, that I may flie, 
And in this harbour quiet haue ! 


This poem is not in our lis. nor in Adtll. Jiss. 10.422, noi' 
Harleian MS. 0021. Our text is 1596, which corrects Turn- 
bull's unhappy misprint of ' spot' for ' port' (st. i. line 1). Wo 
correct 'me' for 'we' (st. vii. line 3). I question if the title 
given to this poem had Southwell's authority. The Poet 
speaks of having 'a troublous mate,' i.r. the body, and the 
poem ends, ' Oh, happie soul :' whence I think the truer title 
were ' Man's Soul.' Moreover this would he more in accord 
with the conceits of the time, as the wound was made with intent 
to let out Christ's life, and the blood and water were deemed 


emblematic of life given to man, as alluded to in stanza iv., 
and there, therefore, man's soul would enter and lodge. 

St. vi. line 4, ' sorrowed sights,' eyes in a state of sorrow. 
Cf. St. Peter's Complaint, st. cviii. line 4, ' terror from His 


Before my face the picture hangs, 
That daily should put me in mind 

Of those cold names and bitter pangs, 
That shortly I am like to find : 

But yet, alas ! full little I 

Do thinke hereon, that I must die. 

1 often looke upon a face 

Most vgly, grisly, bare and thinne ; 
I often view the hollow place, 

Where eyes and nose, had sometimes bin : 
I see the bones acrosse that lie. 
Yet little think that I must die. 

I reade the labell vnderneath. 

That telleth me whereto I must ; 

I see the sentence eake that saith, 

Remember, man, that thou art dust : 

But yet, alas ! but seldomc, I 

Doe thinko indcedc that I must die. 


Continually at my bed's head 

A hearse doth hang, which doth me tel 
That I ere morning may be dead, 

Though now I feele my selfe ful well : 
But yet, alas ! for all this, I 
Haue little minde that I must die. 

The goAvne which I do vse to weare, ■ 
Tlie knife wherewith I cut my meate. 

And eke that old and ancient chaire 
"Which is my onely vsuall seate : 

All these do tel me I must die. 

And yet my life amend not I. 

My ancestors are turnd to clay, 

And many of my mates are gone ; 

My yongers daily drop away, 

And can I thinke to 'scape alone 1 

No, no, I know that I must die, 

And yet my life amend not I. 

Not Salomon, for all his wit, 

Nor Samson, though he were so strong, 
No king nor person euer yet 

Could 'scape, but Death laid him along 
AVherefore I know that I must die, 
And vet mv life amend not I. 


Though all tlie East did quake to lieare 

Of Alexander's dreadfull name, 
And all the West did likewise feare 

To heare of lulius Csesar's fame, 
Yet hoth by Death in dust now lie ; 
Who then can 'scape, but he must die I 

If none can 'scape Death's dreadfull dart, 
If rich and poore his becke obey ; 

If strong, if wise, if all do smart, 

Then I to 'scape shall haue no way. 

Oh ! grant me grace, O God ! that I 

My life may mend, sith I must die. 

This poem, Uke the preceding, is not in our ms. nor in Addl. 
Mss 10 122 nor Hakleun ms. 6t)21. Our text is 159^, which in 
St 'iii line i corrects Tuknbull's misprint, ' Rememher man, 
thou art hut dust.' St. u. line 4, the cross-hones or thigh-hones, 
BO called hecause they were generally put cross-^vlse henca h 
the skull. St. iv. line 1, ' head'=cauopy of the hed. bt. vi i. 
line 2, Hamlet couples the same names in a similar thought 
(V. 1).' G. 


A VALE there is, enwrapt with clreadfull shades, 

"Which thicke, of mourning pynes, shrouds from the 

Where hanging clyftes yelde shorte and dumpish glades, 
And snowye fludd witli broken streames doth runne. 

Wliere eye rome is from rockes to clowdye skye, 
From thence to dales with stony ruyns strowd. 

Then to the crushed water's frothy frye, 

AVTiich tumbleth from the toppes where snowe is 

Where eares of other sounde can have no choise, 
But various blustringe of the stubborne wynde 

In trees, in caves, in strayts with divers noyse ; 

Which now doth hisse, now howle, now roare by 

Where waters wrastle with encountringe stones, 

That breake their streames and turne them into 
The hoUowe cloudes full fraught with thundring grones, 
With liideous thumpes discharge their pregnant 


And in the horrour of this fearcfull quire 

Consistes the musickc of this dolefull place ; 

All pleasant birdes their tunes from thence retyre, 
Where none but heavy notes have any grace. 

Resort there is of none but pilgrimm wightes, 

That passe vi^ith trembling foote and panting hart ; 

With terrour cast in colde and shuddring frightes, 
They judge the place to terror framed by art. 

Yett K"ature's worke it is, of art untoAvch't, 
So straite in deede, so vast unto the eye, 

With such disordred order strangely cowcht. 
And so with pleasing horrour low and hye, 

That who it vewes must needes remayne agaste, 

Much at the worke, more at the Maker's mighte ; 

And muse how Nature suche a plott coulde caste 

Where nothing seemed wronge, yett nothinge right. 

A place for mated myndes, an onely boure 

Where everye tliinge doth sooth a dumpish moode ; 

Earth Ij'es forlorne, the clowdy skye doth lowrc, 

The wind here weepes, here sighes, here cryes 

The strugling floode betwene the marble grones, 
Then roaring beates uppon the craggy sides ; 

A little off, amids the pible stones. 

With bubling streames and purling noyse it glides. 


Tlie pynes thicke sett, highe growen and ever greene, 
Still cloath the place with sadd and mourning vayle ; 

Here gapinge cliffe, there mossy playne is seene, 

Here hope doth springe, and there agayne doth quaile. 

Hnge massy stones that hange by tide staye, 

Still threaten fall, and seeme to hange in feare ; 

Some withered trees, ashamd of their decaye, 

Besett with greene are forc'd gray coates to weare. 

Here christall springes crept out of secrete veyne, 
Strait finde some envious hole that hides their 
grace ; 

Here seared tuftes lament the wante of rayne, 

There thunder-wrack gives terrour to the place. 

All pangues and heavy passions here may finde 
A thowsand motives sutely to theire greifes, 

To feed the sorrowes of their troubled mynde, 

And chase away dame Pleasure's vayne releifes. 

To playninge thoughtes this vale a rest may bee, 
To which from worldly joyes they may retire ; 

Where Sorowe springes from water, stone and tree ; 
Where every thinge with mourners doth conspire. 

Sett here, my soule, mayn streames of teares aflote, 
Here all thy synnfull foyles alone recounte ; 

Of solemne tunes make thou the dollfullst note, 
That, to thy dityes, dolour maye amounte. 


When eccho doth repeate thy playnefull cryes, 
Thinck that the very stones thy synnes bewray, 

And nowe accuse thee with their sadd replyes, 
As heaven and earth shall in the later day. 

Lett former faultes be fuell of the fire, 

For greife, in lymbeck of thy hart, to 'still 

Thy pensive thoughtes and dumpes of thy desire, 
And vapour teares upp to thy eyes at will. 

Lett teares to tunes, and paynes to playnts be prest, 
And lett this be the burden of thy songe — 

Come, deepe Eemorse, possesse my synfull brest ; 
Delightes, ailiew ! I harboured yowe too longe. 


In 1596 this poem is not divided into stanzas. Addl. ms. 
10.422 and Harleian ms. 6921 agi-ee with oiu- ms. save in usual 
orthocfiaphic differences. 

St. i. line 4, in 1596 reads ' flouds do.' 

St. ii. line 2, ib. misreads ' which stormy ruines shroud :' so 

St. V. line 2, consists = agrees with, harmonises with. 

St. \i. line 3, 1 have adopted ' shuddring' from 1596 and 1630 
for 'shivering:' but 1596 misreads here 'With terrour cast. . . . 
And all the place. . .' So also 1630. 

Line 4, 'to terror:' Latinate ad tcrrorem, and perhaps as 
dedicated to terror. 

St. vii. line 4, Turnbull misprints ' with' for ' so.' 

St. viii. line 3, ' plot' in a double sense of a conspiracy and 
plot of ground. 

Line 4, 1596 misprints 'her' for 'here' {his). 

St. ix. line 2, Turnbuli, misprints ' do' for ' doth :' ib. sooth 
= not allay, but assent to, agree with ; and hence soothed is — 


flattered by, in st. xiv. line 2 of ' The ProcUgall Chyld's Soule 

St. X. line 4, 1596 misreads ' a purling :' so 1630. See on 
this word relative note in our Hem-y Vaughan s. v. 

St. xi. line 4, 1596 reads ' mosse gi-owne :' so 1630. 

St. xii. line 2, 1596 and 1630 spell ' foule.' 

Line 4, Turnbull blunderingly amends ' Bereft of for ' Be- 
sett with,' missing the pathos of the blanched trunk ringed with 
living gi-een trees. 

St. xiii. line 3, 1596 misprints ' wants of gi-ace :' so 1630. 

St. xvi. line 1, 1596 reads ' Sit' for ' Sett :' so 1630. 

St. xvii. line 1, 1596 and 1630 have 'doth' for ' shall.' 

St. xix. line 2, 1596 reads ' burthen to.' See our Memorial- 
Introduction for the relation of the ' Vale of Tears' to Hood's 
' Haunted House.' G. 


DiSANCRED from a blisfull shore, 

And lanch'd into the niaygne of cares ; 

Groune rich in vice, in vertewe pore, 
From freedome falne in fatall snares ; 

I founde my selfe on every syde 
Enwrapped in the waves of woe, 

And, tossed with a toylsome tyde, 
Coukl to no port for refuge goe. 

The wrastling wyndes with raging blasts, 
Still holde me in a creAvell chase ; 

They breake my ankers, sayles and mastes, 
Permitting no reposing place. 


The boystrous seas, with swelling fludds, 
On every syde did worke theire spyte, 

Heaven, overcast with stormy cloudes, 
Deny'd the planets' guyding lyght. 

The hellishe furyes laye in wayte 

To wynn my soule into theire poure, 

To make me byte at everye bayte, 

Wherein my bane I might devoure. 

Thus heaven and hell, thus sea and land, 
Thus stormes and tempests did conspire. 

With just revenge of scourging hand, 
To witnesse God's deserved ire. 

I, plunged in this heavy e plyght, 

Founde in my faltes just cause of feare ; 

By darkness taught to knowe my light, 
The loss thereof enforced teares. 

I felt my in\Yarde-bleeding soares, 

My festred wounds beganne to smart, 

Stept farr within deathe's fatall dores. 

The pangues thereof were neere my hart. 

I cryed truce, I craved peace, 

A league with death I woulde conclude ; 
But vaine it was to sue release, 

Subdue I must or bee subdude. 


Death and deceite had pitch'd theire snares, 
And putt theire wicked proofes in ure, 

To sincke me in despayring cares, 

Or make me stoupe to pleasure's lure. 

They sought by theire bewitching charmes 
So to enchant my erring sense. 

That when they sought my greatest harmes, 
I might neglect my best defense. 

My dazeled eyes coulde take no vew, 
ISTo heed of theire deceiving shiftes, 

So often did they alter hew, 

And practise new-devised driftes. 

With Syren's songs they fedd my eares, 
Till, lul'd asleepe in Error's lapp, 

I found these tunes turn'd into teares, 
And short delightes to long mishapp. 

For I entysed to theire lore. 

And soothed with theire idle toyes, 

"Was trayned to theire prison dore — 
The end of all such flying joyes. 

Where cheyn'd in synn I lay in thrall, 
Next to the dungeon of despaire, 

Till Mercy raysd me from my fall, 
And Grace my ruines did repairs. 




In 1596 this poem is printed in long lines continuously, not 
in stanzas. 

St. i. line 2, 1596 misprints ' meane' for ' maine.' 

St. iii. line 3, I adopt ' breake' from 1596 for ' broke.' 

St. ix. line 1, Turnbull mis-inserts ' a' (bis). 

St. X. line 2, ' ure' = use. 

St. xii. line 2, 1596 misprints ' receiving.' 

St. xiii. line 3, 1596 reads ' theii-' for ' these.' G. 


My hoveringe thoughtes would fly to heaven, 

And quiet nestle in the skye; 
Fayne would my shipp in Vertue's shore 

Without remove at anker lye ; 

But mounting thoughtes are haled downe 
With heavy poyse of mortall loade ; 

And blustringe stormes denye my shipp 
In Vertue's haven secure aboade. 


When inward eye to heavenly sightes 
Doth drawe my longing hart's desire, 

The world with jesses of delightes 

Would to her perch my thoughtes retyre. 

166 man's civill warre. 

Fonde Phancy traynes to Pleasure's lure, 

Though Eeason stiffly do repine ; 
Thoughe Wisdome woe me to the sainte, 

Yet Sense would Avynne me to the shrine. 

Wheare Eeason loathes, there Phancy loves, 

And overrules the captive will ; 
Foes sences are to Vertue's lore, 

They drawe the witt their wish to fill. 

Need craves consent of soule to sence, 
Yett divers bents breed civill fraye ; 

Hard happ where halves must disagree, 
Or truce of halves the whole betraye ! 

O crueU fight ! wliere fightinge frende 
With love doth kill a favoringe foe ; 

Where peace with sence is warr with God, 
And self-delite the seede of woe ! 

Dame Pleasure's drugges are steept in synne, 
Their sugred tast doth breed annoye ; 

fickle Sence ! beware her gynn, 
Sell not thy soule to brittle joye ! 


In 1596 this poem is printed in long continuous lines — a 
avourite form. 

St. ii. line 1, 1596 reads ' mounted' and ' hailed.' 


Line 4, our ms. and Addl. ms. 10.422 read ' secure :' the 
reading of 1596, ' sure,' is needed by the rhythm, unless ' haven' 
be read as one syllable. 

St. iii. line 3, 1596 misprints ' lesses." 

St. iv. line 3, 1596 reads here ' Reason' for ' Wisdome,' and 
next st. line 1, ' wisdome' for ' reason.' 

St. V. line 2, 1596 reads ' euer rules.' 

Line 3, 1596 misprints ' and' for ' are.' 

St. vi. hue 3, happ is here = chance or lot. So in 'Decease, 
Release,' st. iii. line 3 ; and ' I die without Desert,' st. ii. line 6. 

Line 4, reads ' trust' for ' truce.' 

St. viii. lines 9-10. Pi'obably in allusion to a house-dame's 
gin, where flies are enticed to sugared and poisoned water. G. 


SoARE upp, my soule, unto thy reste, 
Cast off this loathsome loade ; 

Long is the date of thy exile, 
Too long thy straite aboade, 

Grase not on worldly withered weede, 

It fitteth not thy taste ; 
The floures of everlastinge Springe 

Do growe for tliy repaste. 

Their leaves are stayn'd in hewtye's dye, 
And biased with their beames. 

Their stalkes enameld with delight, 
And lymm'd with glorious gleames. 


Life-giving juce of livinge love 

Their siigred veynes doth fill, 
And watered with eternall shoures 

They nectared dropps distill. 

These floures do spring from fertile soyle, 

Though from unmanur'd feilde ; 
Most glittering goulde in lewe of glebe, 

These fragrant flowers, doth yelde. 

Whose soveraigne sent surpassing sense 

So ravisheth the niynde, 
That worldly weedes needes must he loath 
That can these floweres finde. 


TuRNBULL lias some annoying misprints in this poem : e.g. 
St. i. line 3, ' death' for ' date ;' line 4, ' strict' for ' straite' = 
narrow, confined : st. ii. line 1, ' wood' for ' weede :' st. iii. line 
2, 'her' for 'their' (=the leaves not Beauty). St. v. line 2, 
note the accentuation of ' unmanur'd,' on which there has been 
recently an exchange of Notes and Queries in N. and Q. While 
Dyche's Dictionary (7th edition, 1752) gives ' manure' sub- 
stantive, and ' manfire' verb, and so bears out for that later 
date, Mr. Earle's conjecture, our text until farther evidence be 
obtained, renders it doubtful whether Southwell has taken a 
poetic license, or whether the word, like revenue, had a double 
pronunciation. Lines 3-4 : construction — gold not glebe does 
yield these flowers. The ' do' (of 1596) hitherto printed, which 
in part causes the confusion, is ' doth' properly in our ms., the 
correction being in S.'s own handwriting. St. vi. line 3 explains 
St. ii. line 1, as not worldly-withered but worldly withered. G. 



I brine; together here, under the title of Melofolia, such Poems 
as were not induded in 1595, 1596 or any of the early editions. 
Those printed by Walter, and with his ineradicable careless- 
ness by TuRNBULL, from mss. in the British Museum, are also 
preserved among the Stoxyhurst mss. and with a superior 
text. As before, I reproduce the Stonyhurst text ; but in Notes 
and Illustrations at close of each poem will be found various 
readings and authorities for the others. G. 



The pounded spice both and sent doth please, 
In fading smoke the force doth incense shewe ; 

The perisht kernell springeth Avith increase, 

The lopped tree doth best and soonest growe. 

God's spice I was, and pounding was my due, 
In fadinge breath my incense savored best ; 

Death was the meane, my kyrnell to renewe, 
By loppinge shott I upp to heavenly rest. 

Some thinges more perfect are in their decaye, 
Like sparke that going out gives clerest light ; 

Such was my happ, whose dolefull dying daye 
Beganne my joy and termed Fortune's spite. 

Alive a Queene, now dead I am a saiute ; 

Once Mary called, my name nowe Martyr is ; 
From earthly raigne debarred by restraint, 

In liew wliereof I raigne in heavenly blisse. 

My life my greife, my death hath wrought my joye. 
My frendes my foyle, my foes my weale procur'd ; 

My speedy death hath shortncd longe annoye. 
And losse of life an endles life assur'd. 


My skaffold was the bedd where ease I founde, 
The blocke a pillowe of eteriiall reste ; 

My hedman cast me in a blisfull swounde, 

His axe cutt off my cares from combred breste. 

Rue not my death, rejoyce at my repose ; 

It was no death to me, but to my woe ; 
The budd was opened to lett out the rose, 

The cheynes unloos'd to let the captive goe. 

A prince by birth, a prisoner by mishappe. 

From crowne to crosse, from throne to thrall I fell ; 

My right my ruthe, my titles wrought my trapp. 
My weale my woe, my worldly heaven my hell. 

By death from prisoner to a prince enhaunc'd, 

From crosse to crowne, from thrall to throne againe; 
. My ruth my right, my trapp my stile advauncd 

From woe to weale, from hell to heavenly raigne. 


Walter was the first to print this poem from Addl. ms. 
10.422, and to entitle it ' On the unfortunate Mary Queen of 
Scots :' but his text is mere carelessness. Tuenbull followed, 
but in st. ii. line 2 mis-read ' favour'd' for ' savor'd,' &c. &c. 
&c. Our MS. corrects in st. v. line 3, by reading ' shortned' for 
' scorned,' and line 4 ' an' for ' and.' In our ms. the Poet has 
left the name of ' Mary' (st. iv.) unfilled in— a suggestive fact. 
The ' Mary' was unquestionably Mary Queen of Scots. See 
Notes at close of next poem. In st. i. line 2 =' It is in fading 
smoke that incense shows its foi'ce' (as in fading life did Mary) : 
in st. iii. line 4, 'termed,' causal sense of verb — made a tei-m or 
limit of, ended: in st. viii. line 1, 'prince:' see relative note on 
' The Visitation,' st. ii. line 1. G. 



If orphane cliilde, eiiwrapt in swathing bands, 
Doth move to mercy when forlorne it lyes ; 

If none without remorse of love withstands 
The pitioiis noyse of infante's selye cryes ; 

Then hope, my helpelesse hart, some tender eares 

Will rue thy orphane state and feeble tea res. 

Eelinquisht lamb, in solitarye wood, 

With dying bleat doth move the toughest mynde ; 
The grasping pangues of new engendred brood, 

Base though they be, compassion use to iinde : 
Why should I then of pitty doubt to speede, 
Whose happ would force the hardest hart to bleede 1 

Left orphane-like in helpelesse state I rue, 

With onely sighes and teares I pleade my case ; 

My dying plaints I daylie do renewe. 

And fill with heavy noyse a desert place : 

Some tender hart will weepe to here me mone ; 

Men pitty may, but helpe me God alone ! 


Eayne downe, yee heavens, your teares this case requires ; 

Man's eyes unhable are enough to shedd ; 
If sorow could have place in heavenly quires, 

A juster ground the world hath seldome bredd : 
For Right is Avrongd and Vertue wagd with blood ; 
The badd are blissd, God murdred in the good. 

A gracious plant for fruite, for leafe and flower, 
A peereles gemm for vertue, proofe and price, 

A noble peerc for prowesse, witt, and pourfe, 
A frend to truth, a foe I was to vice ; 

And Ice, alas ! nowe innocente I dye, 

A case that might even make the stones to crye. e'en 

Thus Fortune's favors still are bent to flight. 
Thus worldly blisse in finall bale doth end ; 

Tims Yertue still pursued is with spight. 

But let my fall, though ruefull, none offend : 

God doth sometymes first cropp the sweetest floure. 

And leaves the weede till Tyme do it devoure. 


Waltek again first printed this from Acldl. MS. 10.422, Lnt 
again very badly. So too Tuknbull, who mis-read in st. i. line 5 
' cares' for ' eares,' &c. &c. Our ms. corrects st. iv. line 5, by 
reading ' wrongd' for 'wrong;' and in st. vi. line 4, 'fall' for 
' fate.' Probably Mary Queen of Scots is the supposed speaker, 
as in the preceding poem. See also the Latin Elegy, first printed 
by us, in which the Shade (' Umbra') of Mary laments her hap- 
less fate. In st. i. line 3, remorse of love is =; loving pity. 

' Sely' = silly (st. i. line 4) is so frequently-used a word in 


Southwell, that I gladly avail myself of the present opportunity 
of bringing together a number of memoranda on it, the more 
readily that my invaluable friend Dr. Brinsley Nicholson has 
here specially enriched me from his rare stores. Besides the 
meaning now attached to ' silly,' there is no question but it 
had those of innocent, harmless, plain, and simi^le, and the 
like, much as simple and innocent have similar shades of mean- 
ing at the present time, and, as they are substantively used, 
not without touch of pathos, for ' silly' persons or idiots. Nor 
is it necessary to enter into its real or supposed derivation from 
f!elig, blessed or holy, to understand the connection between 
these several meanings. Southwell's ' silly shroud' (Content 
and Rich, st. ii. line 3) may with Shakespeare's ' silly habit' 
(Cymbeline, v. 3) mean simple or plain clothing; and the 'silly 
women' of the Two Gentlemen of Verona (iv. 1), and the ' silly 
sheep' of 3 Henry VI. (ii. 5), and the 'silly beasts' of 'New 
Prince, New Pompe' (st. ii. line 3), are so called as innocent, 
hai-mless, and inoffensive, as in part at least the doves of ' The 
Presentation' (st. i. line 2) are silly or innocent. 

But there is a now provincial North-country use of ' silly' in 
the sense of ' sickly' or ' weakly' (Halliwell's Ar. Diet. s. v.) de- 
rived from the stronger sense of sillies, simples, or innocents, 
because they are not only weakly of mind, but frequently weakly 
in body and constitution, so much so that from their increased 
desire for warmth comes the sarcastic proverbial saying — ' Yea, 
wit enough to keep himself loarm.' Now, as'svith other provincial 
words and meanings, this provincialism is but the shrunken 
remnant of a more mdely-spread usage. No other sense can, 
I think, be given it in Mary Magdalen's Complayut at Christ's 
Death in st. ii. line 1, and Lewd Love is Losse (st. ii. 1. 4— so 
stupidly misprinted ' folly' by Tuenbull), nor can the ' silly beg- 
gars' of Richard II. (v. 5) be anything but poor beggars; for 
there is no reason why Richard should call them ' harmless.' 
Nor could the beggars and vagabonds of Shakespeare's time be 
as a class so called; the representatives of them give them the 
very opposite character, and we know that they were hung by 
thousands in Henry VIII. 's time : 

' Tlioughts tending to content, flatter themselves 
That they are not tlie first of Fortune's slaves. 
Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars, 
^\'>lO sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame. 
That many have, and others must sit there.' 

So in 1 Henry VI. (ii. 3) it is tolerably clear from the context 


that the Countess does not mean to call Talbot an inoffensive 

but a ' silly' weakly dwarf : 

' Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf ! 
It cannot be this weak and writheld shrimp 
Should strike snch terror to his enemies.' 

And in Cymbeline (v. 3) ' poor habit' is a better gloss than 
plain, both from the context and from the passage (v. 1), where 
Posthumus says he will ' habit' himself as a Breton peasant, and 
lead the fashion of less without and more within. From ' weakly' 
we easily arrive at ' poor' or ' insignificant,' and one of the three 
meanings must be given to two of the quotations in Richard- 
son's Dictionary, from Hall's. Satii-es (vi. 1) and Beowne's Pas- 
torals, as to the ' silly ant' or other insect compared with an 
elephant, or silly canoe of wood or bark as compared with 
builded vessels ; while weakly, if not the main sense, is certainly 
involved in a thii'd quotation from Chapman (Iliad, b. viii.), 

' fools, to raise such silly forts,' &c. 
In other passages also where this sense is not a necessity, it 
still seems to be involved and to give a much fuller meaning. 
The ' siUy turtle doves' of The Presentation (st. i. line 2) are 
contrasted with ' empires ware,' and the infant's silly or weakly 
plaintive cries with the feeble tears of the next and parallel 
line of ' I die without Desert' (as before). Palsgeave also, as 
quoted by Halliwell, gives 'sely' as 'pavoreux;' and with this 
we may take ' she sighit sely sore,' and, against Ellis and 
Jamieson's ' wonderfully sore,' gloss it as '■piteously sore,' and 
regard it as akin to Palsgeave's ' sely,' ' wi-etehed' or ' meschant.' 
' SiUy' (' sely') in David's Peccavi (st. i. line 3) seems to be 
best glossed by ' pavoreux,' as indicated by the first line of next 

In st. iv. line 5, ' wag'd' = recompensed. G. 


In pascliall feast, the end of auncient rite, 
An entraunce was to never-endinge grace ; 

Tipes to the truth, dymm glymses to the hght ; 
Perforniinge deed presaging signes did chase : 

Christe's final nieale was fountayne of our good, 

For niortall meate He gave immortall foode. 

That which He gaue. He was : peerelesse gifts ! 

Both God and man He was, and both He gaue. 
He in His handes Himself did trewlye lifte, 

Farre off they see whome in them selves they have; 
Twelve did He feede, twelve did their feeder eate, 
He made. He dressd. He gave. He was their meate. 

They sawe, they harde, they felt Him sitting nere, 
Unseene, unfelt, unhard, they Him receivd ; 

No diverse thinge, though divers it appeare ; 
Though sences faile, yet faith is not deceiv'd ; 

And if the Avonder of the worke be newe, 

Beleive the worke because His worde is trewe. 

Here truth beleefe, beleefe inviteth love. 

So sweete a truth Love never yett enjoy'd ; 

A A 


Wliat thoixght can thiiicke, what will doth hest approve, 

Is here obteyn'd where no desire ys voyde : 
The grace, the joy, the treasure here is such, 
No witt can wishe, nor will emhrace so much. 

Self-love here cannot crave more then it fyndes ; 

Ambition to noe higher worth aspire ; 
Tlie eagrest famyn of most hungry myndes 

May fill, yea farre exceede their owne desire : 
In suram here is all in a summ expressd, 
Of much the most, of every good the best. 

To ravishe eyes here heavenly bewtyes are ; 

To winne the eare sweete nmsick's sweetest sound ; 
To lure the tast the angells' heavenly fare ; 

To sooth the sent divine perfumes abounde ; 
To please the touch. He in our hartes doth bedd, 
AVhose touch doth cure the dephe, the dumm, the dedd. 

Here to delight tlie witt trewe wisdome is, 

To wooe the will — of every good the choise ; 

For memory, a mirrhor showing blisse ; 

Here's all that can both sence and soule rejoyce ; 

And if to all, all this it do not bringe. 

The fault is in the men, not in the thinge. 

Though blynde men see no light, the sunne doth shyne; 

Sweete cates are sweete, though fevered tastes deny it; 
Perles pretious are, though trodden on by swyne ; 

Ech truth is trewe, though all men do not trye it ; 


The best still to the badd doth worke the worste ; 
Thinges bredd to blisse do make them more accurst. 

The angells' eyes, whome veyles cannot deceive, 
Might best disclose that best they do descerne ; 

Men must with sounde and silent faith receive 
More then they can by sence or reason lerne ; 

God's poure bur proofes, His workes our vntt exceede, 

The doer's might is reason of His deede. 

A body is endew'd with ghostly rightes ; 

And ligature's worke from I^ature's law is free ] 
In heavenly sunne lye hidd eternall lightes, 

Lightes cleere and neere, yet them no eye can see : 
Dedd formes a never-dyinge life do shroude ; 
A boundlesse sea lyes in a little cloude. 

The God of hoastes in slender hoste doth dwell, 
Yea, God and man with all to ether dewe. 

That God that rules the heavens and rifled hell. 
That man whose death did us to life renews : 

That God and man that is the angells' blisse, 

In forme of bredd and wyne our nurture is. 

Whole may His body be in smallest breadd. 

Whole in the whole, yea whole in every crumme • 

With which be one or be tenn thowsand fedd. 
All to ech one, to all but one doth cunime ; 

And though ech one as much as all receive, 

Not one too much, nor all too little have. 


One soule in man is all in everye part ; 

One face at once in many mirrhors sliynes ; 
One fearefuU noyse cloth make a tliowsand start ; 

One eye at once of countlesse thinges defynes ; 
If proofes of one in many, Nature frame, 
God may in straunger sort performe the same. 

God present is at once in everye place, 

Yett God in every place is ever one ; 
So may there be by giftes of ghostly grace, 

One man in many roomes, yett filling none ; 
Sith angells may effects of bodyes shewe, 
God angells' giftes on bodyes may bestowe. 

What God as auctour made He alter may ; 

No change so harde as making all of nought ; 
If Adam framed were of slyniye claye, 

Bredd may to Christe's most sacred flesh be wrought : 
He may do this that made with mighty hande 
Of water wyne, a snake of Moyses' wande. 


We give the above iioem from our ms. (Stonyhurst) with 
Blight exceptions, noted in the places below. Tubnbull printed 
it with such errors as really turn it into nonsense, and prove 
him to have been incapable of so much as reading an old ms., 
even so plain a one as Addl. ms. 10.422. Walter included it 
in his volume (1817), pp. 90-95. But a curious circumstance 
has now for the first time to be -mentioned. This poem proves 
to be none other than ' The Christian's Manna,' which was ori- 


ginally published in the edition of 1616, and repeated in that of 
1620 ; but over which Editors and Bibliographers alike shook 
their heads doubtfully; 'Mister Park' (to adopt Ritson's form) 
pronouncing em^jhatically against it, and so after-editors and 
bibliogi-aphers followed blindly. It is now sufficiently plain 
that its presence in the Stonyhurst ms. (as before in Addl. ms. 
10.422) establishes its authenticity and vindicates the integi-ity 
of the Douai editors. The texts of 1616 and 1620 present some 
various readings that I have adopted, as noted. 

Addl. MS. 10.422 differs from our ms. only orthogi-aphically, 
except in the following : st. i. line 2, ' was' dropped : line 3, 
' glymes' ( = gleams) for 'glymses;' inl616 and 1620 'glimpses,' 
which gives the lacking syllable, and on which cf . St. John i. 9 : 
st. iii. line 5, misreads ' workes' for ' worke :' st. v. line 6, mis- 
reads ' which' for ' much :' st. vii. line 1, ' will' for ' witt :' st. 
xii. line 3, di-ops ' be' before ' tenn" — all faithfully continued by 
TuRNBDLL, and in the last ' even,' ill supplied by him. St. i. 
contains reminiscences of Southwell's favourite hymn, 'Lauda 
Sion Salvatorem' (st. iv.), with the sequence of the thoughts 
reversed. On another Shakesperean parallel in st. vi. see our 
Memorial-Introduction. In st. x. line 2, ' Nature's work . . . .' 
= the wafer of the host : st. xi. line 6, ' angells' gifts' = His gifts 
to angels. I have adopted the following from 1616 and 1620 : 
St. vii. line 4, 'Here's' for 'Here:' st. x. line 2, 'And' for 'A 
Nature's.' I record, but do not accept, the following : st. iii. 
line 6, ' the' for ' His :' st. iv. line 1, ' Here true beliefe of force 
inuiteth love :' st. vi. does not appear in either edition : st. x. 
line 1, ' indued :' st. xiii. line 2, 'glasses': lines 5-6, 

' If proofe of one in many, Nature forme, 
Why may not God much more perforine the same ?' 

St. XV. lines 5-6, 

' He still doth this, that made with mighty hand 
Of water wine, a suake of Moyses' wand.' G. 


Clara Ducum soboles, superis nova sedibus liospes, 

Clausit inoffenso tramite pura diem : 
Dotibus ornavit, superavit moribus ortiim, 

Omnibus vma prior, parfuit vna sibi : 
Lux genus ingenio, generi lux inclita virtus, 

Virtutique fuit mens generosa decus. 
Mors minuit, properata dies orbamque reliquit, 

Prolem matre, virum conjuge, flore genus. 
Occidit, ast alium tulit hie occasus in ortum, 

Vivit, ad occiduas non reditura vices. 

Of Howarde's stemm a glorious braunch is dead, 
Sweete liglites eclipsed were at her decease ; 

In Buckhurst' lyne, she gracious yssue spredd. 

She heaven with two, with fower did Earth encrease ; 

Fame, honour, grace, gave ayre unto her breathe, 

Rest, glory, joyes, were sequelles of her deathe. 

Death aymd too highe, he hitt too choise a wighte, 
Eenownde for birth, for life, for lovely partes ; 

He kilde her cares, he brought her worthes to light, 
He rubd our eyes, but hath enrichd our liartes : 


He lett out of the arke a Noe's dove, 
But many hartes are arkes unto lier loue. 

Grace, Nature, Fortune, did in liir conspire 
To shewe a proofe of their united skill : 

Slye Fortune, ever false, did soone retyre. 

But double grace supplid false Fortune's ill : 

And though she wrought not to her Fortune's pitch. 

In Grace and nature fewe were founde so ritche. 

Heaven of this heavenly perle is now possest, 

Whose lustre, was the blaze of Honnor's lighte ; 

Whose substance pure, of every good the best. 

Whose price, the crowne of Vertue's highest right ; 

Whose praise, to be her self; whose greatest blisse. 

To live, to love, to be where nowe she is. 


I have given a heading to these two poems, which appeared 
originally at close of Southwell's prose treatise in the form of 
'A consolatorie Epistle,' entitled ' The Triumphs ouer Death.' 
Our text is that of the Stonyhurst MS., which is superior to that 
of 1596. 

Latin, line 7 in 1596 is ' Mors muta at :' line 9, ' a se alium :' 
English, in Addl. ms. 10.422, st. i. line 2, ' in' for ' at :' st. ii. 
line 5, note also the very important reading of ' Hee' for the 
nonsensical ' Lot' of 1596 hlindly repeated by Turnbull : st. 
iii. line 5, 'raught' in 1596 = ' wrought' (see relative note on St. 
Peter's Comj^laint, st. ciii. line 2) : ' her' di-opped out by Turn- 
bull : line 6, ' nature,' adopted for ' vertue :' st. iv. line 4, ' Ver- 
tue's' dropped in 1596, and ill-filled by Turnbull's ' every.' G. 


If Vertue be thy guide, 

True comfort is thy path, 
And thou secure from erring steps, 

That leade to vengeance' wrath. 

Not widest open doore, 

Nor spacious wayes she goes ; 
To straight and narrow gate and way, 

She cals, she leads, she shewes. 

She cals, the fcAvest come : 

She leades, the humble sprited ; 
She shews them rest at race's end, 

Soule's rest to heauen inuited. 

'Tis she that offers most ; 

'Tis she that most refuse ; 
'Tis she preuents the broad-way plagues, 

Which most do wilfull chuse ; 

' Our text of this and three followiug is that of 1080. One 
obvious misprint, ' dog' for ' do,' in st. iv. line 4, is corrected. G. 


Doe choose the wide, the broad, 

The left-hand way and gate : 
These Vice applauds, these Vertue loaths 

And teacheth hers to hate. 

Her waies are pleasant waies, 

Vpon the right-hand side ; 
And heauenly-happy is that soule 

Takes Vertue for her guide. 

A Preparatiue TO Prayer. 

When thou doest talke with God, by prayer I meane,i 
Lift vp pure hands, lay downe all Lust's desires : 

Fix thoughts on heauen, present a conscience cleane : 
Such holy balme, to mercie's throne aspires. 

Confesse faults' guilt, craue pardon for thy sinne ; 

Tread holy paths, call grace to guide therein. 

' TuRNBULL grossly misprints ' clear' for ' cleane,' notwith- 
standing the rhyme with ' meane,' line 3; and in st. iv. line 2, 
' servant' for ' seruants.' I have corrected ' blame' (st. i. line 4) 
by ' balme,' which vindicates itself. St. iii. line 6, ' converts,' 
verb neut. reflective=z: turns, changes: st. iv. Iine4, 'impeach' 
(Fr. empt'cher)=hindrance, the literal and, in that day, com- 
mon meaning: line 6 seems corrupted — qy. 'salvation's hill 
on Mercie's wings' ? 

I am not sure that I do right in adhering to the divisions 
and separate headings of 1630 in what must have been meant 
by its Author to be one poem on prayer. In reading let these 
separate headings be ignored, and thereby the reader will be 



It is the spirit with reuerence must obey 

Our Maker's will, to practise what He taught ; 

Make not the flesh thy counsell when thou pray : 
'Tis enemie to euery vertuous thought : 

It is the foe we daily feed and cloath : 

It is the prison that the soule doth loath. 

Euen as Elias, mounting to the skie, e'e?'- 

Did cast his mantle to the Earth behind : 

So, when the heart presents the prayer on high, 
Exclude the world from traflike with the mind. 

Lips neere to God, and ranging heart within. 

Is but vaine babbling and conuerts to sinne. 

Like Abraham, ascending vp the hill 

To sacrifice ; his seruants left below. 
That he might act the great Commander's will, 

Without impeach to his obedient blow ; 
Euen so the soule, remote from earthly things ; 
Should mount saluation's shelter, Mercie's wings. 

relieved of the misconception which otherwise is inevitable as 
to 'Oh,fortresseofthefaithfull,' &c. (Ensamples, st.ii. line 1). 
At present no one, till he reails farther and reconsiders, can 
avoid taking it as an epithet of what is now the opening of 
the poem and the subject of the first stanza, namely, our Sa- 
viour. G. 


The Effects of Prayer. 

The suiine by prayer did cease his course, and staid ; 

The hungrie lions fawnd vpon their prey ; 
A walled passage tlirough the sea it made ; 

From foiious fire it banisht heat away ; 
It shut the heauens three yeares from giuing raine, 
It opened heauens, and clouds powrd downe againe. 

Ensamples of OUR Saviour. 

OvR Sauiour, (patterne of true holinesse,) 

Continuall praid, vs by ensample teaching, — 

When He was baptized in the wildernesse, 
In worldng miracles and in His preaching ; 

Vpon the mount, in garden-groues of death. 

At His Last Supper, at His parting breath. 

Oh ! fortresse of the faithfull, sure defence. 

In which doth Christians' cognizance consist ; 

Their victorie, their triumph comes from thence, 
So forcible, hell-gates cannot resist : 

A thing whereby both angels, clouds and starres, 

At man's request fight God's reuengefull warres. 

I^othing more gratefull in the Highest eyes, 
Nothing more firme in danger to protect us. 


Nothing more forcible to pierce the skies, 

And not depart till Mercy doe respect vs : 
And, as the soule life to the body giues, 
So prayer reuiues the soule, by prayer it Hues. 


St. ii. line 1, ' fovtresse'= prayer : st. iii. liue 4, 'respect' 
=to look back upon or again, hold in view, look upon consider- 

Part of one of these (the Preparation to Prayer) was pre- 
fixed to Bp. Cosis's Hora: but with some variations (pp. 16-18, 
Oxford reprint). Some of the Prayers in that book are taken 
from Southwell (which rathe)' modifies what is said in the Ox- 
ford Preface from Evelyn, p. xii.) : for example, on pp. 68-72, 
which is altered from one in Southwell's Rules of Good Life 
(latter part of sheet y, ed. 1630). G. 



Never before printed. 


The whole of the following hitherto unprinted Latin Poems 
by Southwell are from his own mss. now preserved in Stony- 
HUKST College, near Blackburn. They are wi-itten in fasci- 
culi distinct from the English Poems' ms. (on which see our 

The first two pieces explain themselves— and for remarks 
on them and the others, i-eference may be made to our Me- 
morial-Introduction ; but it may be well to note here, that the 
first of the Fragment of a Series of Elegies seems to relate 
to some disaster to the Spanish arms, probably the Armada 
collapse of 1588 ; that ' Elegia VIII.' is the lament of a husband 
for the death of his wife, in which there is a conceit running 
throughout, founded upon the idea of the one being ' alter ego' 
of the other; and that 'Elegia IX.' is historically interesting 
as being put into the ' fail- lips' of the ' Shade' of Mary, Queen 
of Scots, and so a fitting companion to his English poem, 
' Decease, Release. Dum morior, orior.' The shorter sacred 
poems are elucidated by their headings. 

Even with the anxious assistance of the Rev. S. Sole of St. 
Mary's College, Oscott, Birmingham, and the cooperation of the 
Rev. Joseph Stevenson of the same College — to the latter of 
whom the whole of the Southwell mss. of Stonyhurst had 
been sent for calendaring in the Report of the Government Com- 
mission on (private) Historical mss. — I cannot hope to have 
furnished an immaculate text. But no pains have been spared to 
make out the small and difiicult handwriting, and it is believed 
few or no important errors will be found. Some words have 
been conformed to classical usage in the orthogi-aphy. G. 


Cum ccelum et tellus et vasti macliina miindi, i 

Ponderibus librata suis, basis inscia, firmas 

Sortita est sedes, et legibus omnia certis 

In propriis digesta locis jam fixa manerent, 

Extremum Deus urget opus, priniosque parentes 5 

Cunctarum format veluti compendia rerum. 

Hos orbis statuit dominos, atque omnibus ornans 

Deliciis, sacra paradisi in sede locavit. 

Hie locus a primo mundi memorabilis ortu, 

Consitus arboribus, leni quas aura susurro 10 

Murmureque interflat molli, labensque per herbas 

Dulcisonos ciet iinda modos, paribiisque recurrens 

Flexibus, in varios per gramina finditur arcus. 

Hie vagus incerto discurrens tramite piscis 

Plurimus ignoti generis, dum lusibus instat 1 5 

Decipit, et placide fallendo lumina mulcet. 

Per ripas diffusa patet cum floribus herba, 

Luxuriansque viget vario Iretissima partu, 

Quem sponte effudit curvo sine vomere tellus. 

Hie rosa cum violis, cum calthis lilia certant ; 20 

Hie casia^ narcissus adest, hyacinthus acantho ; 


Hie crocus et mixtis crescunt vaccinia bacis. 
Quis dulces avium modulos, genus omne ferarum 
Quis memoret, quis cuncta loci miracula narret ? 
Quicquid in itnmenso pulcliri diifunditur orbe, 25 

Et sparsum solumque alias aliasque per oras 
Cernitur, hoc uno totum concluditur horto. 

Hjec sedes antiqua fuit, quam Lucifer Ada; 
Invidit, tetrumque Erebi detrusus in antrum 
Et cjelo extorris, diro molimine fraudes 30 

Intulit, et tectis veri sub imagine verbis 
Lethiferum suasit morsum, ca^loque rebelles 
Reddidit, et victis Stygia- cervicibus Aulse 
Imposuit servile jugum, placidisque fugatos 
Sedibus, exilio gravibusque doloribus anxit. 35 

Hie primum sua signa ferox victricia Pluto 
Extulit, hie ultrix morbi mortisque potestas 
Coepit, et humanum genus in sua jura vocavit. 

Mox variis grassata modis mors tempore vires 
CoUigit, et cunctos nullo discrimine mactans 40 

Imperat, et toto late dominatur in orbe. 
Non minus beroas, proceres, mundique dynastas 
Sceptrigerumque genus, quam vili stirpe creatos 
Abripit, atque omnes vineens invicta triumphat ; 
Donee virgo, suae vindex generosa parentis, 45 

Se rabido victrix objecit prima furori 
Mortis, et imperii sa3vas eonvellere leges 
Orsa, satellitium mortis superavit, et ipsi 
Terrorem incussit dominie, quod corporis a^qua 


Temperies, vegetique artus, et vivida virtus 50 

Lethiferis adituni prtecluderet Integra morbis. 

Mors mirata suos contra lianc nil posse ministros, 
Provectamque niliQ solitis concedere telis, 
Extremam imperio timet impendere ruinam. 
Principiis igitur cupiens obsistere, totas 55 

Intendit vires, atque omnia mente volutans, 
Tartarei cogit proceres, monstra impia, regni. 

Est vastum scabris sinuosum anfractibus antrum, 
Solis inaccessum radiis, fundoque dehiscens, 
Et ruptas reserans inimani borrore cavernas. 60 

Propatulo hie fluvius surgit Letba^us biatu, 
Ingentique mens per concava saxa fragore, 
Prsecipitante rotat limosa volumina cursu, 
Et dirum aggeribus spunians freuiit unda repertis, 
Hinc atque bine atrata patent fuligine tecta, . 65 
Et loca senta situ, varies spirantia morbos, 
iEternum spissae squalent caligine mortis. 
In medio solium, nulla spectabile pom pa, 
Informi obductum limo, sanieque perunctum, 
Eminet, exesis diuturna a^rugine fulcris. 70 

Hie annosa sedet canis mors horrida saitis, 
Os macie, taboque genas confecta, cavisque 
Immersos fossis oculos et livida ciiTum 
Dentes labra gerens turpique patentia rictu. 
Htec jubet : et raucis prasco clamoribus aiu'as 75 

Personat, et medio manes compellat ab antro. 

Excita turba ruit c?ecas furibunda per umbras, 



Insolitos mirata sonos, atque ocius una 

Conglonierata capit certas ex orcline sedes. 

Fatales primum pariter sedere sorores, 80 

Quai levibus vitse deducunt stamina fusis.^ 

Decrepita has sequitur baculoque innixa senectus, 

Incultas diffusa comas, et membra caducis 

Vix pedibus moribunda regens. Turn languida febris, 

Et tussis, pituita, hydrops, et hirida pestis, 85 

Phrenesis, cancer, porrigo, tormina, spasmus, 

Et genus id, numerosa manus ; quibus undique septa 

Mors spirans iiumane, oculis jaculantibus ignes, 

Atque olidum truncis fumum de naribus efflans, 

Terribiles ructat fremitus ; dein talia fatur. 90 

Atra cohors, nostris semjDer fidissima sceptris, 
Olim quanta fuit Lethei gloria regni 
Qua Phoebus, qua luna suos agit aurea currus, 
Quas bello edidimus strages, quot funere reges 
Mersimus, et totum quoties consumpsimus orbem 95 
Non latet, et vestris cecidit pars maxima telis. 
Vos etenim spissos animarum ad Tartara nimbos 
Prtecipites egisse subit, jjlenisque voracem 
Exsatiasse hominum functorum messibus Orcum. 
Numquid tanta ruet virtus ingioria, et uni roo 

Jfoster cedet honos 1 Sic formidabile numen 
Imperiumque ruet, sic nostris hostia templis 
Deficiet, tantique cadent fastigia regni 1 
Est mulier, mulier nostris contraria fatis, 
' In margin ' vel mensurant.' G. 


Omni labe carens, iiuUiTeque obnoxia culpai : 105 

Illius hti3C genetrix Christi est, qui immanibus ausis 

Tartareos subiit fines, et victor opimis 

Ditatus spoliis, superas evasit ad auras, 

Et raptam aethereis praedam celer intulit astris. 

Queni timeo, nostrse ne forte injurius aula3 no 

Antiquas violet leges, matremque (quod absit) 

Viribus eripiat nostris, animosque ministret, 

Ut prpedas actura istis sine sole cavernis 

Succedat, manesque suis exturbet ab antris. 

Nee timor hie ratione caret, nam vidimus ilium 1 1 5 

Qui velut lieec sine labe fait, victricibus armis 

Tartareos superasse deos. Pro dicite, cives. 

Quid sit opis, quid consilii, qua hoc arte queamus 

Propulsare malum. Vos ista pericula tangunt. 

Cernitis ut nullos admittat corpore morbos, 120 

Et vestras ludat vires 1 Proh sola revellet 

Jura per innumeros annorum fixa recursus 

Eemina 1 Sic omnes coepto desistere victos 

Post tot ssecla decet 1 Scelus est . . . Hie plura volentem 

Dicere, non patitur rabies, et marcida circuni 125 

Fauces spuma fluens, imis quam saeva medullis 

Ira furorque ciet. Veluti cum verbere tactus 

Stat sonipes, pressisque furens detentus habenis, 

Frena ferox pleno spumantia mergit in ore. 

Mox varias edit confuso murmure voces 130 

Circumposta cohors, strcpitu reboante per auras ; 

Qualis ad excussos sequitur de nubibus ignes. 


Subjectis ardent irarum pectora taedis, 

Atqiie odiis fervent aninii, crudusque per artus 

Livor et ossa ruit; caeciis rapit impetus omnes. 135 

Arma fremunt, saevit belli scelerata cupido, 

Certatinique feras sese exhortantur in iras, 

Et patrias jurant tutari sanguine sedes. 

Non secus ac subitis populus temerarius ausis, 

Audito belli sonitu, furit undique prseceps, 1 40 

Atque omni sine lege ruit, nil mente retractans 

Quid fieri expediat, sed quid novus ingerat ardor, 

Verum ita concussos animis grandieva senectus, 
Longe aliud secum meditans, sic ore nioratur : 

Siste gradum, generosa coliors, baud irrita f orsan 1 4 5 
Verba loquar, nostris aures advortite dictis. 
Nobilis ut video vobis vigor insidet, altum 
Mens agitat bellum, claris crebrescere factis 
Fert animus, juvat et superis indicere divis 
Proelia; nos etiam votis si cetera nostris 150 

Congruerent, avidi tantos ambimus honores. 
Sed frustra hoc temptamus opus. Quibus sethera telis 
Pervia censetis 1- qufe non molimina vincet 
Qui potis est totum delere et condere mundum 1 
Jampridem sensere immanes mole gigantes 155 

In superos quid bella queant. Et Lucifer ille, 
Orbe sub empireo rutilanti in sede refulgens, 
Cum sibi divinos temere^ poscebat bonores, 

1 ' Temen"' is an oversight, but we must leave it, as with 
' uisi," &c. G. 


Haud potuit retinere suos, sed, pulsus iu imas 

Terrarum latebras, poenas exsolvit acerbas. i6o 

His pra3stat didicisse malis, quam vana furentes 

In caelum temptare nefas, et cedere victos. 

Consilium rursus capitote, expendite causas, 

In melius mutasse animos prudentia summa est. 

Si mea canities, mea si sententia pondus 165 

Momentumque habeat, belloruiu insana cupido 

Cesset, et in summi referamus verba Tonantis 

Judicium, qui nee Stygiis injurius unquam 

Sedibus esse potest, cujusque in numine lis est. 

Hffic ubi dicta dedit, torpent in proilia vires, 1 70 
Infractique cadunt animi, mentesque coacta 
Pax tenet, et junctis rata fit sententia votis. 

ISTuntius extemplo liquidas subMmis in auras 
Tollitur, et facili tranans per inane volatu 
Arduus insurgit, Letbajique acta Senatus 175 

Exponens superis, avidus responsa requirit. 

Tunc Deus, ostentans a?quato examine lances, 
Esto, ait, a3quus ero, causa exagitetur utrinque : 
Cui ratio, cui jura favent, victoria cedat. 

Mox partes actura suas mors ferrea pra3sto est, 180 
Et Scevum frendens rabido sic intonat ore : 
rerum qui summa tenes, quid jura revellis, 
Et male nil meritam dubiis terroribus angis ? 
Quid merui, quid commisi, qure crimina tandem 
Sic multanda vides, nostris ut legibus istam 185 

Eripias, et prisca ruat labefacta potestas 1 


Mortalis nata est, et carnis credita moles 
Communem redolet massam ; caro terrea terrae 
Eeddatur, maneat^ simili sub pulvere pulvis. 
Adamo ex patre est, cujus cum cetera proles 1 90 

Illius oL culpam parcis obnoxia sumat 
Corpora, cur mortem hsec et ineluctabile fatum 
Effugiat, cur funereas transire per umbras 
Abnuat, et victrix reliquis magis una triumphet 1 

Hsec ait, at Gabriel causam contrarius u.rget 195 
Virginis, adversoque potens sermone tuetur. 
l^osti, ait, alme Pater, quos mors tellure repostos 
In sua jura rapit, primi contracta parentis 
Aspergit maculosa lues ; et cedere fatis 
Culpae poena fuit. Sed virgo lisec, criminis exors, 200 
Cur luat immeritas omnino innoxia pamas 1 
Id Christi genetricis erat sponsa^que tonantis, 
Ut pura infectos transiret sola per artus, 
Communique carens culpa, mala debita culpse 
Haud ferret. Nullis Deus est nisi sontibus ultor. 205 

His ita respondet solio Deus orsus ab alto : 
Judicium hoc esto. Venerandte virginis almus 
Spiritus astra petat, sanoque e corpore migret 
Non mortis sed amoris ope, et violenta doloris 
Vis nulla impediat, sit summa exire voluptas. 210 

Tunc mors dira fremit, lapsumque in viscera torquet 
Invidite furiale malum, disrumpitur ira 

' Above ' maneat' is written ' recleat ;' but as ' maneat' is 
not erased, we retain it. G. 


Morborum infelix acies, et inutile frendens 
Vipeream expirat rabiem. Deinum acrius instat 
Ut saltern extinctuin liceat dissolvere corpus. 2 1 5 

Ast superi contra insurgunt, et nescia labis 
Cailo membra petunt, animae decora alta beats). 

Annuit Omnipotens. Divum sonat aula triumphis. 
Virgo poli regina sedet, mors victa fugatur. 2 1 9 


Si tarn longinquis rogites quis scripsit ab oris, 

Vel ferat unde rudes sordida cbarta notas, 
Inspice, suffusis quamvis maculosa lituris 

Littera scriptoris nomen et omen babet. 
Continet ilia meos plenos formidine casus,i 5 

lUa dabit nati facta scelesta tui ; 
Et licet ingrato sordent elementa colore, 

Sunt tamen hajc domino candidiora suo. 
Quippe, quod emerui, lutulentis^ versor in antris, 

Mlque nisi obscenum lumina nostra vident. i o 
Non mihi divitise, non fulvi copia nummi, 

Prtestitit ut quondam, nunc quoque prrestat opem. 

' In margiu, as au apparent alternative line for this : ' Ilia 
meum referet ter lamentabile fatum.' G. 
* Mis-written ' lutosis.' G. 


Hand inopem fallax comitatur vulgiis ut olim, 

Nee, qualis fuerat, jam famulatus adest. 
Ornatte desimt radianti murice vestes, 15 

!N"ec phaleris tecti subjiciuiitur equi ; 
Omnia nimboso fluxere simillima vento, 

Nee facies rebus, quaj fuit ante, manet. 
Hei volvit fortuna rotam, ventisque solutis 

Disrupit nostram perniciosa ratem. 20 

Aurea deperiit, nunc ferrea prodiit eetas; 

Sunt l93ta in tristes tempora versa dies. 
Qua^que prius ventis pergebant vela secundis, 

Et pontum ut faciles edomuere lacus. 
Acta ruunt inter Scyllas interque Cbarybdes 25 

Et fracta adversis dilacerantur aquis. 
Heu parva infandum liquerunt gaudia luctum ! 

Heu ruptuni liquit vipera parta latus ! 
Jam placidte periere dies, tristesque secutte ; 

Ultima la^titise prima doloris erat. 30 

Sors ea dura quidem, sed nostris debita factis, 

Immo est errato lenior ira meo. 
Cum miser ignotas veni peregrinus in oras, 

Pronus in interitum, pro dolor ! ipse meum, 
Totus in insanos effudi tempora luxus, 35 

Tempora vulneribus jam redimenda meis. 
Seque mihi juveni juvenes junxere sodales, 

Et ruitura simul plurima turba fuit. 
Kaptus in exitium, sociis agitantibus, ivi ; 

Aut comes aut princeps ad scelus omne fui, 40 


Utque pudor faciem, pietas sic pectora liquit. 

Calluit a multis mens hebetata malis, 
Nee mihi cura Dei, proprite nee cura saliitis, 

Sola videbatur ca^ca libido salus. 
Sic ego tartareis merces certissima monstris, 45 

Tartareos retuli jam nova dira canes ; 
'Non furiis actus furiosa videbar Erinys, 

Nee mihi sub stygiis par fuit ullus aquis. 
Hsec mea vita fuit, si possit vita vocari 

Quae tulit ad mortis perniciosa fores. 50 

Hoc mea lustravit nimium vaga carbasus fequor, 

Alta quoad plenam sustulit unda ratem •} 
Sed modo saxosi portus anfractibus hajrens, 

Corruit ablatis naufraga puppis aquis. 
Jamque luo poenas, turpi s fero prasmia vitse ; 55 

Obruor innumeris exul egensque malis. 
All ! lacer ex liumeris algenti pendet amictus, 

Cetera marmoreo frigore membra rigent, 
Et male contecti madefiunt imbribus artus ; 

Quin lacerant nudani verbera sa^pe cutim. 60 

Contiiiuis lassa^ callent grunnitibus aures, 
' Lseta est in tales musica versa sonos : 
Sunt etenim porci mensaj, lectique sodales, 

Unus eis cibus est, unus et ille mihi. 
Horridus inculto pendet de fronte capillus, 65 

Nee caput a ventis quod tueatur adest. 

" There is little doubt South\\'ell meant ' quoad' and ' eis' 
(Hue 0-i) foi' diBsyllables. G. 


Dum facies liquida pallens respondet ab unda, 

Qua^ quondam a speculo reddita stepe fnit, 
Dissiniiles surgunt antiqua ab imagine vultus, 

JSTec species eadem, quoe fait ante, manet ; 70 

Quippe novas macies induxit in era figuras. 

Vix cutis, exesis carnibus, ossa tegit j 
Squalida languentes febris depascifcur artus, 

Imaque pervasit tabidus ossa dolor, 
Nee mihi curandis dantur medicamina morbis, 7 5 

Tu nisi succurras, non feret alter opem. 
Hei ! tua sum, genitor, tua sum, licet impia proles, 

Ni mala quse fuerit, desinat esse tua. 
Te genitore fui proles, non impia proles, 

Impia, me misero, me genitore, fui. 80 

Aspice tu prolem, proles dedit impia pcenas 

Atque tulit meritis prremia digna suis ; 
Inque dies funesta magis tormenta supersunt, 

Et mala prseteritis deteriora malis ; 
Mille animum curce, corpus mala mille fatigant, 85 

Intus nulla datur, nee foris^ uUa quies. 
quam difficiles portendunt omnia casus, 

Tu nisi mature tristia fata leves. 
Hei citus affer opem, dextramque extende cadenti, 

Quce data vita mihi, morsque negata foret. 90 

' ' Foris' is here an adverb = ' out of doors.' But in classi- 
cal Latin the ' /*' is always and necessarily long; and so here 
again is a false quantity. G. 


pater, nati spes summa et sola salutis, 

Sis pater et nati sit tibi cura tui. 
En scelus agnoscit, lacrimis commissa fatetur, 

Parcere peccanti munus amoris erit : 
Peccavi, fateor, sceleris mens conscia luget, 95 

Erroresque luunt singula membra suos ; 
Scilicet et veniam sceleris mens conscia poscit,^ 

Nee nisi peccanti parcere posset amor. 
Parcat amor, vincat pietas, ira^que facessant, 

Plus tua te virtus, quam mea facta regant. 1 00 

ISTec quia me cernis factum de j)role rebellem, 

Tu fieri judex ex genitore velis. 
Quamvis si fieres, nunquam te judice tantis 

Esset, credo equidem, subdita vita malis. 
Cur tua deserui redamati limina tecti ! 105 

Cur mea subtraxi lumina maesta tuis ! 
Sic visum est superis, ha3C me fortuna manebat,^ 

Hpec mihi, dura licet, poena ferenda fuit. 
Ah, Deus, ecce tuli, sajvos jam comprime fluctus, 

Et petat optatos lassa carina sinus. 1 1 o 

Per mare, per scopulos, per mille agitata Charybdes, 

Mitius ah tandem, te duce, pergat iter. 

• Line 97 is written in four ways in the ms., somewhat con- 
fusedly: 1. As above. 2. ScUicet et venia3 segetem mea facta 
ministrant. 3. Materiam veniae mea sors miseranda ministrat. 
4. Non quffirit veniam qui nil commisit iniqui. G. 

2 This Une is thus written on the margin: ScUicet hos 
superis placuit me volvere casus. G. 


mihi si patrios liceat revidere penates, 

mihi si felix luceat ille dies, 
Ante ruet coelum tendetque ad sidera tellus 1 1 5 

Et mare siccatis fluctibus ignis erit, 
Quam qu?eram ignotas iterum novus advena terras, 

Quamvis quaerenti regia seeptra dares. 
Patria ! dulce solum ! quod si mihi visere detur, 

ISTec me divelli mortuus inde sinam ; 120 

Condicio melior patriis in sedibus Iri est, 

Quam Croesi magnas exulis inter opes. 
Ergo cara tui pateant mihi limina tecti, 

Et videam notos post fera fata lares. 
Sin minus, externis moriar peregrinus in oris, 125 

Nee tumuli ritum qui mihi prsestet erit, 
Sed sine funeribus nullo curante relinquar, 

Et miseranda feris prteda cadaver erit. 
O si forte brevi tales tibi littera casus 

Adferat, et nati talia fata tui, 130 

Qute sibi mens, quis sensus erit, cum, te orta parente, 

Audieris rabidas membra vorasse feras 1 
Tunc fortasse gemens sobolis vel busta requires, 

Quam poteras vivam nunc habuisse domi. 
Tunc, si me renuas, memorans renuisse dolebis, 1 3 5 

Atque tuo duplex imber ab ore fluet. 
Obvia s£epe animo defuncti occurret imago, 

Junctaque cum lacrimis plurima verba dabis, 
Ast aderit nuUus nisi tristes fletibus umbrai 

Et rapiet gemitus ventus et aura tuos. 140 



Tunc dolor invadet (|uem non invaserat olim, 

Quique sepultus erat, vidnere siu'get^ amor. 
Ille quidem surget, sed nostros serus in usus, 

Cum nulla optate spes opis esse potest. 
Nunc igitur,2 nunc, dum spes manet ulla salutis, 145 

Succurre, et tantis obvius ito mails. 
Quodque mihi, genitor, solus concedere posses, 

Accipe supremum prolis ab ore vale. 

* Above ' surget' is wi-itten ' vivet.' G. 

2 The ' ur' of ' igitiir' is here made long. By transposing 
the second ' nunc' and ' 0," and reading ' Nunc igitur, nunc O 
dum,' &c. the false quantity would be avoided, whether the au- 
thor's or not. G. 


There appear to be a part of No. 7, the whole of No. 8, and 
a part of No. 9. These follow in the order of the ms. G. 

Ex luctii populus, redditur ipse chalybs, 
Conclamant Celte celsos periisse Monarchas, 

Nee conclamato fuiiere liber Iber. 
Ferales Nebrissa rotat mutata cupressos; 

Nulla premit lauruni pra^fica, laurus abi. 5 

(^)uin formidatos armat Carteia nepotes, 

Tarn ssevse cupiens arma movere neci. 
Cantaber et Vasco demptum sibi plorat lionorem ; 

Nunc onus est illis quilibet alter lionos, 
Hunc fati lusuni flet Lusitanus et iuquit, 1 o 

Quse mors dicenda est, si jocus iUe fuit 1 
Bisseni/ clamant, ' bisseni' cedite menses : 

Omnis in hoc obitu scilicet annus obit. 
Ecce jacet fusis gens Castellana maniplis, 

Hoc tumulo vires perdidit, atque vires. 15 

Ex merito Latium nomen sortire latendi ; 

Hac terra, Latii condita terra, lates ! 

' Query, the Spaniards ; so named from some province of 
Spain? Biscay (?); and qy. read Biscani ? G. 


Quid quod et Eoi pariter, gens altera mundi, 

Sensit de ca^lo lumina rapta sue ! 
Quid quod et ^thiopes membris nigrantibus horrent ! 2 o 

A luctu credo provenit ille color. 
Heu, dicunt, periisse Peru ! mens naufraga currit. 

Quo ferar 1 ah periit qui niodo portus erat. 
India tota gemit passis diffusa capillis : 

Ortus in occasum Margaris omnis abit. 25 

Hei mihi ! cur lacrimas alio peto sole tepentes 1 

Ut doleam tellus nenipe petenda nova est. 
Quid faciam 1 vidi lugentes fluminis iindas ; 

Et vidi lacrimas, utraque terra, tuas. 
Perge, anime, in fietum, tepuerunt marmora fletu, 30 

Ergone marmoribus tu mage durus eris ? 
Ingemuit pontus, gemuit quoque terra dolore, 

Et ponto et terra tu mage s^vus eris ? 
Ah doleo ! testes superi ! mea Margaris, eheu ! 

Margaris, heu ! luctus hscc quoque testis erit. 35 
ISTon doleam 1 mea vita fugit, mea Margareta ! 

Hoc solo steterat nomine vita mihi. 
N'on doleam? sensus aninia3que evanuit ardor ! 

Quis poterit vita3 jam superesse calor 1 
Deficio, subsido : dolor ! dolor ! expirabo ! 40 

Jam satis est, luctus tu tege, terra, meos. 



Die ubi nunc quod amo est ! ubinam quod semper 
amavi ? 

Hei mihi ! vel quod amo, vel quod amabo perit 1 
ISTon perit : ilia prseit ; sed amans sectatur amantem ; 

Hand sequor, baud igitur me prseit ; ergo perit. 
Non perit, at patrium vivis bibit ^ethera labris : 5 

Me solum duplici morte perire jubet. 
Sic quod anias animas 1 quod amas sinis ecce perire ; 

Si sinis boc, cinis est, nam calor inde fugit. 
Si calor bine remeat, mortis me frigus adurit : 

Die ubi sit gemini pectoris unus amor 1 10 

Tu vel ego^ duo sunt? non sunt : quid? fallimur ambo; 

Sint duo, non duo sunt, una vel unus eris. 
Una vel unus ero : qui legem novit amoris, 

Unum non uno pectore pectus liabet. 
An bene dinumeras 1 Ego, tu ; duo nomina tingis : 1 5 

Ast unum duplici nomine numen inest. 
JSTumen inest ; cor corde premit, mentemque maritat ; 

'Non duo tu vel ego, sint duo corda licet. 
Sim tuus et mea sis, sint vincula bina duorum : 

Simus et bic ambo ; non tamen ambo simius. 20 
Quid queror ! baud moreris ; duo sunt nam corpore in 

Sic vivum nostro corpore corpus babes : 

1 See former note : ego. G. 


Aut ego jam perii, duo sunt nam corpore in uno ; 

Sic mea sunt tumulo membra sepulta tuo. 
Sed neque jam morior, neque tecum vivere possum : 25 

Hoc vivo, possum quod memor esse tui. 
Hoc est, quod moriens, rerum pulcherrima, dixti : 

N'omen tu memori pectore semper habe ! 
Et licet liinc absim, sit prajsens conjuge conjux : 

Defungor ; functa3 tu quoque vive mihi. 30 

Dixi ego, ne dubita, memori vivemus amore, 

Quam tuus ipse tuus, tam mea semper eris. 
Jam mea semper eris, licet hie mea diceris absens ; 

Pectoribus statuam dicta suprema meis. 
Quamque mihi dictum, tam tu mihi semper adha-res, 35 

Et dicti et vitiB mors erit una meaj. 
Non mihi votorum reddet lux ulla tuorum 

Tffidia ; quis tantae non meminisse potest ? 
In pra3sente tamen pra^sentem qujero ; quid illud ? 

Fascinor? absenti num mihi semper ades? 40 

At forsan nequeunt oculi te ferre sequentes ? 

Si nequeo visu te, modo mente feram. 
Aut age ! quod menti deerit, supplebit ocellus : 

Sic mens, sic oculus testis amoris erit. 
Sic animus lamenta dabit, lacrimabit ocellus ; 45 

Commodus ad partes fiet uterque meas, 
Quodque animus celat, non hoc celabit ocellus ; 

Mens secum tacite, sed gemet ille palam. 
Ite palam, lacrimal, servati pignus amoris ; 

Hie mihi leto non nisi cedet amor : cq 



Ite palam, gemino dolor hie spectabitur orbe : 

Hie dolor est, hie est qiiem pins auget amor. 
Lamentor, queror, usque queror, gemo, lugeo, plango, 

Langueo : languorem dicere vultis 1 amo. 
Nunc niolem sine mole feram, sine pondere pondus ; 55 

Nunc labor, minima nunc ego mole gravor. 
Dicite quid sit amor 1 i3ondusne est, an mage penna 1 

Penna mihi levis est, et grave pondus amor. 
Excutio pondus, rapidis me intersero pennis, 

Queis vaga sublimis sidera carpit amor. 60 

Ah amo ! sed quid nam 1 vel ubi 1 mea sidera novi : 

Hie quod amo superest, hue volo, terra, vale. 



Quid conclamato jacis irrita vota sepulchro ] 

Quam petis, in vili non remoratur humo. 
Nunc ingens crelorum heres, nunc hospita cajli, 

Affigo superis parta troprea polis 
Verte alio lacrimas, sangiiis meus, inclytus ordo, 5 

Inde toga gravior, fortior inde sago. 
Plange ; sed quid nam 1 Stulti ludibria mundi ! 

Pars magna est animi forsitan ille tui. 
Quid pretii pretium 1 Quid habet decus omne decoris 

Non sunt ha-c aninio digna ])otente coli. 10 


Cernis opes? Picte sunt fuh^a umbracula massaj, 

Est raptrix animi copia ; cernis opes. 
Divitiis vitiis inhias 1 reus aureus ipse es : 

Fies inter opes non nisi semper inops. 
Vauus honor ; tuniidi sunt oblectamina sensus, 1 5 

Marcida gloriol?e pabula ; vanus honor. 
Res nulla est, bulla est, res futilis, utilis illis 

Queis inhonorus honor non honor est sed onus. 
Vana Venus ; csecaj sunt irritamina culpse. 

Dementis mentis toxica ; vana Venus. 20 

Fallacem faciem cerussat amaror amoris, 

Dum mala proj^onit mala venusta Venus. 
Este procul tellus, et inania munera terree ; 

Munera non ullo respicienda die. 
Pluma volat : pueri totis complexibus instant. 2 5 

Umbra fugit ; pressus preeterit ilia tuos. 
Eos est ; si pelago rapitur, fit protinus unda. 

The four following poems are ■written in a very small, care- 
ful hand, on a fold of paper (32mo) of eight pages: the poems 
occui)y three pages only. G. 



Tu tacitas nosti lacrimas, tu saucia cernis 

Pectora, secreto quod cremer igne vides ; 
Tu, quoties tristi ducam suspiria corde, 

Tu, quoties pro te mors milii grata foret. 
Yivo tanien, si vita potest quam duco vocari, 5 

Quippe cui^ mors est vivere, vita mori. 
Namque procul mea vita fugit qua vivere vellem, 

Et fera qua nollem vivere vita venit : 
Usee me dum lugio sequitur, fugit ilia sequentem. 

Persequor et fugio, luctus utrinque milii ; i o 

Nee fugiens capior, nee euntem carpere possum. 

Hei milii, qui versa vivere sorte dabit ! 

' Southwell makes 'cni,' according to very late usage, an 
iambus, cuJ, whereas in the silver age, Seneca, Martial, and 
Juvenal first began to use it as a dissyllable, but a jiyrrbic 
dissyllable, cvii. G. 



Tu Catherina, mei solatrix unica hictus, 

soror et Christi sponsa decora, veni. 
Die mihi cur tacitis intus miser ignibiis urar, 

Die mihi cur mordax viscera luctiis edat. 
Nonne potes, si vis, nostros in gaudia fletus 5 

Vertere 1 quid prohibet 1 tu, Catherina, potes, 
Quippe sure nunquam sponsae renegare maritus 

Vel mininnim casto quod petit ore potest. 
Hue igitur, dilecta Deo, tua lumina flecte, 

Aspice quam multis mens [labet] icta malis.^ 10 
Ferre cito O digneris opem, pulcherrima virgo, 

Atque extinguendis ignibus afFer aquas. 
Cui Deus injussus venit obvius, ipsa rogata, 

Quteso, veni nobis mitis, ut ipse tibi. 
Quoque tuum pepulit^ Christus medicamine morbum, 1 5 

Hoc nostro luctum pectore pelle, precor. 
(Ximque dolor similis, quae te medicina juvaret^ 

Cur potius nostris asset inepta malis ? 
Si mihi concedas, dubio procul angor abibit, 

Quaeque tibi fuerat, nunc erit apta mihi. 20 

Virgo sancta, vale, Christi sanctissima martyr, 

Terque quaterque vale, sisqiie benigna mihi. 

• Tliis line is defective : ' labet' filled in to complete it : ' ruat' 
or ' cadat' will do equally well. G. 

- In the MS. Southwell wrote ' pepulit,' and changed it him- 
self to ' repiilit :' but the former seems better. G. 

■' Or juvabat niis-writteu juvavit. The perfect is juvit. G. 



Vita venit, vitse cum votis obvius ito, 

Et veniet votis obvia vita tuis. 
Vita quod est tibi dat, tu vitaj redde teipsiim, 

Et tibi per vitam vita j)erennis erit. 
At quinam poteris melius te reddere vit^e, 

Quam si, qui vita est, des tua vota Deo ] 
Des igitur tua vota Deo, dabit ijjse seipsum, 

Et reddet votis prtemia viva^ tuis. 


PosTQUAM, tartarei spoliis ditatus Averni, 
Vi propria superas Cliristus rediisset ad auras, 
Divino angelicas inter splendore phalanges 
Conspicuus summas creli se tollit in arces. 
Tamque expectatum cajlestis turba triunipbuni 5 

Aspicit, atque hominum longi pars mortua luctus 
Pra^mia degustat. 8olus miser incola terrse 
Angustam patitur sortem, duroque laborum 
Pondere depressus, querulo petit ore juvantem. 
liespice sublimi clemens de sede gementes i o 

In terris populos. Cur nos ardentibus ustos 
Curarum flammis et saucia corda gerentes 

' The MS. reads vita, but wi'ongly : and we substitute ' viva.' 


Deseris? liei miseris quis nos solabitur ultra? 
Sufficit exilium, patrii(£ue absentia regui ; 
Sufficiimt varii casus diuturna(|ue poina 15 

Quam caro, quam iiiundus, quani daiinonis impetus in- 

Si plura imponas, nimia sub mole gravati 
Decidimus ; sed et ha3c propria' virtute nequimus 
Ferre, nisi [et] nostras divina potentia mentes 
Fulciat, et tenues confirmet numine vires. 20 

Eja igitur, celer hue pietatis lumina flecte, 
Ut, qui cailicolas dulci solaminis aura 
Perfundis, Limbique patres sperata tenere 
Pr^mia concedis, media regione locatos 
Haud ma^stos remanere sinas, sed qualia saltern 25 

Mens humana potest, carnis complexa catenis, 
Gaudia tarn varios inter gustare dolores, 
ISTon renuas ; ut, te triplicem solante catervam, 
Te triplici laudet ctelum, Styx, terra, camena. 

Has adeo msestas pietas divina querelas 30 

Suscipiens, miserum placido medicamine morbum 
Atque infelices statuit curare ruinas. 
Expansis igitur sacrse penetralibus aul^e, 
Tertia de superis placido persona meatu 
Sedibus egreditur, tenuesque elapsa per auras 35 

Versus apostolicuni properans se contulit agmen. 


1. As stated in Memorial-Inti-oductiou fp. Ixxxvi.j, I hem 
give the remainiug interlineations and studies for St. Peter's 
Complaint from the Stonyhurst autograph mss., as follows: 

The bowes which [shott the fa . . . — erased] leveld at his dolful 

brest [sic] 
The sharpest arows and most deadly flyghtes 
Were theis of Chryste, when they on him did rest 
These ey[erased] were bowes there lookes lyke arowes lyght 
Which not content to hurt his heavy hart 
glanced to the Soule 
Even pea lanced the Sowle [erased] and wounded in such wise 

he was fayne till 
That al his dayes while life did quyte departe 

so still 

He oynted it with liquour of his eies. 

[Ill margin — To nynt the wounde to liath the sores.] 


This verse it is difficult to copy. 

once to a minion bold face 

Thre severall tymes [twyse — erased] by two handmades woyce 

Next to a man last to that levyl [or renyl] rout 
[And last by meanes of that accursed crue — erased] 

bought [sic] he was not of the fold 

He sed and swore [that he new folower was, made his choisc — 

adliereiits never 

Of Chrysts whome he [denyed that he knew — erased] 
[To folowe Chryst a man he never knew — erased] 
But when 

The cocke had chased out this [stubborne — erased] brail 
as thing 

[thrall ?J and brought in day for witnes of the cryme 


[When as — erased] the [whe— erased] wretch scarse luarkyuL 
yet his fall 
Did with his eies meete theies of Christ his King. 

In what distresse pore peater did remayne 

At this encountrynge ech with others eies 

Let no man vant that he cann make it playne 

No tunge can reache the truthe scarce mynde surmyse 

It seemed that Chryst amids that juysh crew 

Forlorne of frends these speaches did reherse 

Behold that which I sayed is now to viewe 

O freude disloyall, disciple fierce. 

No youthful dame her beautuouse face in glasse 
Of christall brj'ghtnes did so wel discrye easely prie 
As thy old sely wret did in this passe 

foul de- 
In th' eies of Chryst his filthy fait espye 
Nor egi*e eare though covetous to heare 

And without pause attent to teachers speache 
Could learne so much in twyce two hundi-ed yeares 

in a turne 
As with one looks he did in moment reach. 


Lyke as sometyme (though it unworthy be 

To lyken sacred matters with profane) 

[In margin — Profaned things in holy talk to name] 
By lookes a lover secret thoughtes can se 

And searche the hart thoughe it no wordes do frame 
Let amorous knyghts traynd up in cupids schoole 
Teache those which are unskilful in this art 
How without usynge tong or wrytynge toole 
By lookes the lovers know ech others hart 
The eies may serve for to display the hart 
Ech eie of Chryst a running tungue did seeme 

ech lyk a listning 
And peters eis so many eagi*e eared 

[In margin— Eche ey of peter like a listninge eare] 


Prest to receyue the voyce and it esteame 

According to that sense that it should heare 

More fierce he seemed to say ar thy eis 

Then the impious hands which shall naile me on the crosse 

Nether feele I any blow which do so annoy me 

Of so many which this gylty rable doth on me lay 

As that blow which came out of thy mouth. 

None faythful found I none courteous 

Of so many that I have vouchsafned to be myne 

But thow in whome my was more kyndled [sic] 

Ai-t faythlesse and ungi*atefull above all other 

All other with there (cowardly) flyght did onely ofifend me 

But thow hast denyed and now with the other [foes] ghilty 
Standest feedynd thy eies with my damage [and sorowes] 
As though pai-t of this pleasur belonged unto the. 


Who by one and one could count 

The wordes of wrath and of love full 

Which peter seemed to se imprinted 

In the holy gyi-e [compasse] those two calme eyes, it would 

make him brast that could understand [conceive] them : 
For if from mortall eie often cometh 
Virtue, which hath force in us. He which proveth [this] let him 

Wliat an eie divyne [or of God] is able to worke in man's senses. 

As a fold [or feld?] of snow which frosen 

The winter in close valew hiddyn laye 

At the sprynge tyde of the son heated 

Doth quyte melt and resolve into water 

So the feare which enterred was in the frozen heart 

Of peter then when the ti"uth he conceled 

When toward him his eies he turned 

Did quyte thaw and unto teares was resolved. 

He [.s/c] teres or weepyng were not as river or torrent 
Which at the scorchyng hot season could ever dry upp 
For though Chryst Kyng of heaven immayntenant 
Did retornc him the gi-ace which he had lost 
Yet all the remnant of his lyfe 


There was never nyght but therein he did wake 

Herynge the cock tell him how unfayful he had hen 

And gevinge new teares to his old fait 

That face which litle before had ben 

Attyned with the coloure of death 

By reason of the blood which was retyred to the harte 

Levyng th' other parts cold and pale 

Of the beames of those holy eies warmed 

as red as fyre 
Waxed flame and by the same dores 
That feare entred it vanished away 
And in his due place shame appeared 
Vewj'nge the wi-ech how diverse 
From his former state he founde him self 
His hart not sufi'ysyng him to stand there presente 
Before his offended lord that so had loved him 
Without taryance for the fierce or mercyful 
Sentence which the hard tribunal seat did give on him 
From that odious house hated bouse that then he was in 
Weepyng bitterlj' he went forth 

And desyi-ous to encounter some that just penance [and payn] 
Would geve him for his grevous error. 

2. In the Stonyhurst sis. of a Discourse on Mary Magdalene, 
these stanzas are wi-itten by themselves by Southwell — the 
second incomplete : 

The Shippe that from the port doth sayle 
And lanceth in the tyde 
Must many a billow's boystrous brunt 
And stormy blast abyde. 

The tree that groweth on the hill 
And bye dothe shoot his bowes 
Besyde the danger of the axe, 

3. ' Josephe's Amazement,' st. ii.-vi. (pp. 122-3). Joseph's 
intention of flight is mentioned in Pseudo Matt. ch. x. xi. : and 
with I'eference to this and Southwell's use of such, it may here 
be noted that the Protevangel or Apoc. Gosj^el was (then) new 
to the Latin Church, being first published in Latin in 1552, and 
BO an object of curiosity to our Poet, who seems to have been 
well-read. (See p. 132.)' 


4. SocTHWELL uses ' sight' as = the instrument or organ of 
sight, i. e. the eye. Richardson and the Lexicographers give no 
example of such use, and it may therefore be well to confinn 
the sense and use, Fii-st, Shakespeakk (Venus and Adonis, lines 

181-4) : 

And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, 
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye ; 
His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight. 
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky. 

Again (Coriol. ii. 1) : 

All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights 
Are spectacled to see him. 

Once more, Midsummer Night's Dream (iii. 2) : 

And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight. 

Similarly we use ' sight' as the eye opening or instrument of 

seeing, of optical instruments : and so Shakespeare : 

Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel. 

2 Heniy IV. iv. 1. (See p. 155.) 

5. ' Silly' (see p. 176 : note on st. i. line 4 of ' I die without 
Desert'). The translator of The Rogue or Life of Don Guzman 
D'Alfarache, though a Spaniard, was as gi-eat a master of col- 
loquial idiomatic English as Florio, and I think there is a clear 
example of silly =pavoreux, as late as 1629. Speaking of the 
innkeeper who is afraid that his mule veal will he discovered, 
Guzman says (b. i. c. v.) : ' This poor Rogue (albeit a very vil- 
laine) pardned in roguery, and habituated in mischiefe, and 
being steeped, and lyen long in soke (as it were), in thefts, and 
all kinde of coozenages, was now out of heart, and gi-ew silly 
and weake-spii-ited, and was ready to quake for feare. Besides, 
such kinde of men are commonly cowards, and have onely an 
outside of men, but no manhood at all.' The context quoted 
points to this meaning, and nothing in the rest of the context 
at all shows that he got foolish or silly in our present sense of 
the word. 

6. In the ' Month' for January-February 1872 appeared an 
' Elegy on Edmund Campion' from a black-letter contemporary 
volume in the British Museum, where it forms one of several. 
Thereupon a correspondent in the ' Tablet' assigned reasons for 
ascribing it to Southwell, and received support from other well- 
known and accomplished critics. But a Letter from my admir- 


able friend Kev. S. Sole, of St. Mary's College, Oscott, Birming- 
ham, in ' Tablet' for Feb. 24th, shows that the external data 
are against such authorship, while the internal goes to prove 
that the Writer (probably Walpole, S. J.) must have been an 
eye-witness of the martyrdom, which Southwell could not have 
been. It must be admitted that there are Southwellian words 
and turns in the Elegy: but his non-authorship is equally cer- 
tain. G.